


Golden

by he_wants_to_write



Series: Larry Stylinson Fics [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Coming Out, Concerts, Crush at First Sight, Domestic Bliss, Eleanor Calder/Louis Tomlinson Break Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Fame, Family Issues, Famous Harry Styles, First Dates, First Time, Fluff, Gay Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles Has a Crush on Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles Thinks Louis Tomlinson is Pretty, Harry Styles is Protective of Louis Tomlinson, Inspired by a Harry Styles Song, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Long-Distance Relationship, Loss of Virginity, Louis Tomlinson Calls Harry Styles Pet Names, Louis Tomlinson is Harry Styles' Muse, Love Confessions, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Music, Niall Horan & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, Non-Famous Louis Tomlinson, Non-Famous Niall, Past Eleanor Calder/Louis Tomlinson, Strangers to Lovers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top/Bottom Versatile Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 88,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24293041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/he_wants_to_write/pseuds/he_wants_to_write
Summary: Louis Tomlinson wasn't expecting to get involved with someone romantically, at least not while he's still figuring out quite personal aspects of his own identity.And, especially, he wasn't expecting to get himself tangled in an affair with the worldwide known, one of the most famous musicians of the time, Harry Styles.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: Larry Stylinson Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899958
Comments: 71
Kudos: 281





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thank you for clicking in this story. I hope you enjoy it.  
> Also, I'd like to ask you to leave a comment, as it is one of the most motivating parts of writing fanfiction. Thank you for your support in advance!

Louis doesn't realize he's being pushed until his body is unintentionally colliding with others around him and his friend's voice, Niall, seem to go farther away. His wrist is caught by the tight grip of his friend, his small body being pulled back against the tide of people rushing towards the stage. 

"If I lose you here, I'm not going to miss the show looking for you." The Irish accent of his companion is emphasized by the loud tone of his voice, trying to communicate amid such loud environment. 

Louis offers Niall one of his sarcastic smirks; "Thanks lad, really comforting." 

Niall laughs, the lights around them are bright and turned towards the crowd, the stage covered by a big screen that will probably be pulled up by the time the concert starts. Louis sighs, the amount of bodies around them being a lot for him to adjust, especially after hours waiting in line to get inside the arena. Louis is convinced that he is the best friend in the entire world just for agreeing to go to this show, only to be a company to the Irish lad. 

"C'mon, live a little!" Niall spoke by his side, hands still grasping his arm, holding him still in the spot that Niall felt was the best. It wasn't far from the stage, a good few feet away, enough where he could see the speakers on the edge of the structure and spot the security employees that circled the fence. 

Louis glanced at his friend, watching his familiar blue eyes shining with expectancy. He grinned, genuinely this time. "Trying. I'm surprised you can even breathe right now."

Niall ignored his comment and peered at the stage, spotlights beginning to fade away slowly and screaming fans at the fence becoming wilder by the second. The yelling got louder when images flashed on the big screen in front of the stage; Louis' head ached just from the screaming alone, and the sight of flashing LED lights in a huge screen made him want to double over in overwhelm. 

"You alright?" Niall questioned, not taking his vision out of the screen. Louis replied a quick and loud "Yeah," and turned around again to watch the screen be lifted, revealing, meter by meter, the complete stage. 

Screams were loud, too loud, Louis thought he wouldn't be able to make it. Suddenly, the thought of being lost and farther away from the main point of the concert felt like a good idea, until the music began playing and the yelling reduced into a melodious and joyful sound. Louis removed his hands from his ears and peered the stage, watching the band come to life and the musicians play their instruments skillfully.

In the middle, in the spotlight, there stood a man, the lead singer and performer, one he had learned was Harry Styles. Louis remembers seeing the lad's name, splattered around the news, social media and magazines. He'd seen his face before and his voice was familiar to him, being that his best friend Niall was, clearly, a big fan. 

Louis watched countless videos of him - most of them forcefully by Niall - to an extend that he believed that he had heard enough from the man to know that his music was, in fact, good. He enjoyed a few tunes, had a couple favorites, but the entire experience of being there in front of him and his band didn't bring as much joy as it did Niall.

However, seeing his friend having the time of his life there, was enough to make him stay. So, he turned his vision to the stage and watched as the man sang with ease, his smooth grasps on the microphone stand and awkward, yet entertaining dancing demonstrated his customary routine with the stage. 

The first song was a banger - Louis believed - and by the end, it had him bouncing his head, shyly following his dancing feet. Niall yells at the top of his lungs several times in a short spam of minutes, so much that Louis is absolutely sure that he'll hear his friend complaining about having lost his voice during the next following days. More songs play in, and Louis grows acclimatized with all the noise around him, his mind settling into the figure of the man on stage, wrapped around a pink suit that had most fans shouting for.

Harry interacts a lot with the crowd, Louis notices. The performer talks in between songs, comments on the fan's dancing and screaming in a way that shows appreciation. Also, his catching skills are keen when he grasps onto random objects that are thrown to his direction, which has Louis amused to watch the singer's quirky manners that shines through him, transparent even when he's in front of a good amount of people.

In one instance, during one of the songs that Louis knows and enjoys and is singing along, Harry's eyes are scanning the crowd, looking for nothing in particular, until Louis can physically feel the pressure of an unfamiliar stare towards his frame. He isn't sure if the performer is actually looking at his direction; he can't even see it clearly, there's too many lights, too many people, he even thinks that there's some sort of fog around. Louis comes to the conclusion that the singer is probably getting blinded by all the lights and so his eyes dart around, as the songs continue, and he turns to dance and grab at his guitar on other songs.

Louis' mind is calmer by the entirety of the rest of the performance that ran by smoothly, and Niall's throat - Louis is sure - is raw by the end of it. Harry, the singer, begins to say his farewells, when Niall pulls at Louis' wrist again. "Lou, we have to go to the exit."

"Why? Something's wrong?" Louis asked.

Niall only shakes his head as a response and continues to pull him towards the back, guiding them both at the exit. Harry's voice can still be heard, then the drums are hit a few more times as an exiting beat, and then the fans are the only source of noise again. The lights are bright again and the stage is empty when the pair reaches the exit, the security there holding the doors open. 

When they leave the arena and Niall is guiding them into an odd, long and crowded hallway that circles the structure; the Irish informs with a wide smile; "I bought meet and greet for us."

Louis is stunned, not aware of the information until the moment. "What?" He says, wanting to shout, but barely hearing his own voice. "Are you nuts? That shit is expensive."

"Yeah, so? Is not always that Harry Styles is in the same building as me. C'mon, it says it's around here,"

It doesn't take long to find it; it's a large, sparse room. It's the complete opposite of the ambient they just were in, tight and crowded and heating with screaming people. There's fans scattered, either buying merch or talking among themselves in groups, until a staff member shows up and announces that Harry will be out in a few minutes, and that a line should be organized calmly. 

Niall pulls Louis once again, placing them in the said created line. Soon, the singer appears, along with more smiling people beside him that Louis believes are members of the band. Fans are gasping, some are crying, and the meet and greet begin. Pictures and signatures are being taken, along with warm hugs that Louis can watch happening in the front of the room where the band is standing. Harry is calm and patient with everyone, unhesitatingly wrapping his arms around his fans. Louis actually grins as he watches the interactions. 

Almost half and hour passes when Niall is starting to silently freak out, hiding behind a sheer posture of confidence, but Louis is too familiar with the Irish's body language to know that his friend is slightly panicking as they get closer and closer to the singer. "Calm down mate, it's going to be alright, yeah? He seems really nice."

"He is, I'm just really excited." He says, his accent sharpening as it tends to do when he's nervous.

Louis pats his friend's shoulder in reassurance and glances up, realizing there's not many people in front of them before it's their turn. The line is shortening and soon, the pair is standing in front of the photographer and Harry, who is offering them a warm grin. Niall is the first one to step in, pacing with open arms towards Harry, who takes the embrace with a smile. Louis is grinning behind his friend, knowing how much that moment means to him, so much so, that he zooms out for a second and when he comes to realization, Harry is the one with open arms, as if waiting for him.

"Oh," Louis says to himself, approaching and taking the hug, feeling his own body being wrapped around long arms that don't let go of his frame until he pulls away first. He notices the singer is taller than himself as he looks up. 

"Hi, how are you?" Harry questions, green eyes bright against the pink suit he's still wearing. "What's your name, darling?"

Louis hums, glancing over at Niall, who's smiling brightly. "Ahn, I'm good. I'm Louis." 

"Nice to meet you, Louis." Harry says, pulling the pair in for a picture. The photographer is quick to snap a couple photos, as the managing staff behind him moves to organize the next people in line. 

"Thank you. The show was really good, by the way." Louis comments, wanting to match the man's kindness, as he walks away to allow the next awaiting fans to take their turn.

Harry only smiles back warmly and his green eyes linger a bit longer in his figure, until his attention is caught by another round of fans and the pair dissipate from the room. 

"I can't believe we just actually met Harry!" Niall says excitedly, guiding them towards the place where they would get their photo revealed. 

Louis smiles. "Yeah, he was pretty cool to be honest." 

"I told you!"

Niall goes into the another room to get their pictures, and Louis announces he's going to be waiting outside, wanting to grab a smoke before he drives them back to their respective places. Louis is pacing, almost lost inside the long and bright - almost too bright - hallways, until he is stopped by an unknown figure that seems to be struggling to catch their breath.

"Hey! You," The man approaches and plants a hand on Louis shoulder, removing it quickly after catching the smaller man's attention. 

"Can I help you?" Louis asks, proper confused.

The man nods. "Yes, my name's Jeffrey, I'm Harry's manager,"

Louis' eyes widen, both in shock and confusion. "Harry Styles, you mean?"

"Exactly, anyways, he asked me to give you this." The brunet hands out a small paper, partly ripped and scrambled together, pushing it between Louis' fingers. "Your name is Louis, right?"

Louis nods and that's all the confirmation the man needs, before he's pacing off with a grin.

The smaller man feels stuck in place, standing in the middle of the busy corridor with a folded paper in his hands that seem to suck in all of his attention as he opens it with a mixture of rush and care, pacing aside to lean against the wall. He's frowning and trembling when he reads.

_"Hi, it's Harry. Please, text me whenever you can."_

Louis' blue eyes ran through an unfamiliar number that follows the short message. He shoves the paper in his pocket and Niall soon appears, the picture in his hands and a smile in his face. Louis is still struck with the surprising event when he glances at the photo taken. His eyes are glued to Harry's figure, his bright, dimpled smile and tousled curls. 

Louis realizes that he's proper fucked. 


	2. Chapter 2

Louis is the one who drives an overly excited Niall to his apartment, before going off to his own.

The night is quiet; it doesn't feel like he's in the same world as the one he was just a couple hours ago, when he was being pushed and reaching near deafness among an insane amount of cheering fans. When he's inside his place, Louis puts the folded paper from his jeans on his nightstand, tucked under a candle, and follows his night routine. When he's in bed, he checks his phone, replying Niall's thread of messages about their night and ignoring his ex-girlfriend's texts.

He sighs, glancing at Eleanor's contact name, wanting to respond but not having the response that she wanted. He blinks and decides that he's done for the night, and the folded paper remains in his nightstand until he wakes up the next morning and realizes that it's still placed there, proving that it wasn't a surreal reverie of his mind.

The morning sun is bleeding into his bedroom when he unfolds the paper and grabs his phone, typing in the number and saving the contact as "H".

It was a prank; it had be, he thought. At each step to adding the number's contact into his phone, he was more convinced that someone decided to pull a joke on him. However, the man - Jeffrey - had said his name. Louis shook the thoughts away and texted the number, hesitating shortly to hit send.

"Hey, it's Louis. Got this number from Jeffrey."

He read the text over, thinking that the short message looked ridiculous. He is still drunk with sleep when he stands up from his bed and goes into his kitchen, making himself a cuppa and sitting on his couch, sipping on the hot beverage and letting his system wake up. The natural light illuminates his apartment in a comforting way as he breathes quietly, appreciating the peace around him before he has to get ready for work.

He can hear his phone buzzing in the bedroom. His eyes widen in realization, placing his drink on the center table and rushing to the room. His mind only seemed to recall the memories from the night before right when he unblocked his phone and saw the notification from "H".

He taps on the pop up, opening the message.

_"Hi! I'm so glad he managed to find you. It's Harry, by the way."_

Louis swallows and releases a breath he didn't know he was holding in. The contact appears to be typing, and before he has time to process, another message comes in.

_"Good morning, Louis :)"_

He blocks the phone and throws it on the bed. It can't be true. It has to be a hoax, a joke, a prank. Louis is pacing in his room when a laugh erupts from his throat; someone is playing him, and he would not fall for it. Believing he's stupid that he even believed it in the previous night, he ignores the phone and goes back into the living room, drinking his cuppa with too many thoughts in his mind.

Louis showers, puts clothes on and glances at the phone, thrown between tangled sheets.

What if? He thinks.

He opens the conversation with "H", glancing at the messages. His fingers are responding before he has time to ponder too deeply about it.

"Good morning, Harry."

He sends it and sighs, texting again.

"Is this really you? Got a shock last night when your manager appeared out of nowhere with your number."

Louis glanced and waited, but Harry, or whoever was on the other side of the conversation, didn't pop up online. The man groaned to himself. This is stupid, he thought. He tucked the phone in his pocket, grabbed a jacket and his keys, and left to work.

Niall is a good friend, probably the only person in Louis' social life that he truly cares about. However, the Irish man is persistent with his conversation during the entirety of the morning, mentioning the concert and their meet and greet with the famous star to the rest of their co-workers; so persistent that even Louis finds himself slightly annoyed, although he wouldn't have it in any other way. He smiles and continues his usual routine at the small coffee shop they worked at, using the peaceful and quiet atmosphere around him to balance the nervousness deep in his bones, all brought by one particular number on his phone that hasn't texted back yet.

Louis finds himself bouncing between calm and chaos, letting his mind wander between the two extremes as he works, not caring - or not knowing how - to deal with all the information that seems to have fallen upon him in such a short amount of time. He knew he shouldn't trust the number, or Jeffrey.

When he's finishing up the last order of the morning before he can leave for lunch break, something clicks in his mind.

He storms out of through the back of coffee shop as soon as his break begins, letting Niall hang out around with the rest of the employees. He follows his familiar routine; hanging out in the back, cigarette in his fingers before he can think of getting something to eat, and his phone is on the other hand.

"Jeffrey, huh?" Louis mumbles to himself after he makes sure no one else is around.

His fingertips are quick to type on the phone's screen. It doesn't take more than a minute for him to get the confirmation; "Harry Styles' manager" results in a list of websites with interviews starring the name "Jeffrey Azoff". When he taps on images, he quickly recognizes the face of the man that gave him the paper. There's pictures of him with Harry, even with other members of the band that Harry was previously on before he went solo.

Louis coughs, bending over in overwhelm and not particularly enjoying the unusual burning on his throat. His heart is beating fast as he tucks his phone back in his pocket, and kills his unfinished cigarette on the bottom of his shoe before throwing it on a nearby garbage bin.

He decides he should get something to eat, and ignores the waves of questions that flow his mind for the rest of his shift.

When his phone buzzes again, he's driving back to his apartment in the end of the afternoon. He feels his rib cage aching for another smoke as he parks and enters his place, sitting on the couch with his uniform still, and glances at the notifications from his newly added contact "H".

Of course, he could have waited. He could have eaten dinner, taken a shower and went to bed and respond whenever his heart didn't feel like it would come out of his mouth anymore. But it was the burning on the pit of his stomach that made him tap on the message.

" _Hi! I'm sorry for the late reply, I got caught up in a bunch of stuff. Hope you're okay over there."_

Louis has barely anytime to think of an appropriate reply before another text appears at the bottom of the conversation.

_"And answering your question, yeah, it's really me."_

The man breathes in deeply. His fingers are erratic on the screen;

"Hey, I'm alright, was working the whole day too. How are you?"

He watches as the three dots flicker on the chat.

_"I'm good too, just a bit tired."_

Louis is almost convinced that his lungs stopped working after he reads the next text.

_"Can I call you?"_

Louis blocks the phone and stands up. He paces on his living room and realizes he's in the dark still. He stumbles to reach the light switch, illuminating his apartment as he does so. The phone buzzes again where it lies, on the surface of his couch, and he definitely did not ran back to open the conversation.

_"It's alright if you don't want to."_

Louis responds almost immediately.

"Yeah, sure, you can call."

He regrets his reply as soon as he sends it, and observes his text get read. He realizes that now, he has to _talk,_ and he doesn't trust his own voice to say a word right. Or ever, if it came to someone like Harry calling him. He wonders what the man wants, or why he wanted Louis' contact. But mainly, he questions himself, why did he gave in and reached out?

His thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a call that enters his phone. "H" is calling.

"Shit," Louis whispers to himself, voice almost a hiss, and then he's answering the call, his breathing suddenly stilling as he hears;

_"Hello?"_

The voice is familiar, deep. Louis is convinced that he's in trouble, but luckily, his voice doesn't break like he expected it to when he responds;

"Hi, it's Louis."

" _Oh, hey."_ Louis swears he can hear the smile on his tone. _"Ahn, just wanted to call so that you would know it's really me. You probably think I'm weird or, ahn, anyways, yeah."_

Louis can't contain a grin that twists in his face. He suddenly becomes more confident, as "H" becomes "Harry", and he truly feels the tension dissolve through his bones when he notices that Harry contains nervousness and hesitation in his tone as well.

"It's alright, I was just not expecting that. The call and the texts and, you know, _you._ "

Louis hears a chuckle on the other side of the line, then a sigh that soon transforms into words; _"To be fair, I wasn't either, it's just-"_ Harry interrupts himself, and although Louis is curious, he doesn't push. _"Anyway, ahn, how was your day?"_

Louis smiles and sits on his couch, the lights in his apartment flicker; he doesn't know what kind of turn his life was taking, to which direction, and what kind of parallel universe was being mixed into this reality where the famous Harry Styles wanted to hold a casual conversation with him over the phone.

"It was good, yeah. Went to work, the nine-to-five routine. What about yours?"

 _"Good too, busy, rushed, but good."_ He notices that Harry talks slowly, almost in a melodious way. _"I'm staying in Manchester for the next couple of weeks, so I'm looking forward to enjoying the city when work is done."_

Louis nods, although aware that Harry can't see. "That's nice to know, Manchester is a great place indeed-" Louis ponders for a second, hearing the soft breathing echoing on his ear, "Harry, if you don't mind the question, why did you want to contact me?"

There's a silence, a sigh, and then a reply; _"I wanted to get to know you. You seemed really nice and, I don't know how to explain it, I just thought I'd give it a try, so I asked my manager and here we are."_

The response felt like enough to Louis, who smiled.

_"I also wanted to ask if it's okay for us to hang out sometime."_

To that, Louis' breath hitched again. "Ahn, sure, but can we," He swallows and Harry doesn't interrupt, "Can we just keep talking for a while, before we actually meet again?"

 _"Of course! Absolutely."_ Then there's the smiling tone on his voice again, the one that Louis can't help but feel infatuated with. _"Also, if you change your mind along the way, just tell me and I won't bother you anymore, ahn, yeah, I think that's that,"_

Louis feels the muscles on his face twisting in between confusion, disbelief and admiration, all together in a mixture of sensations that had him talking unusually soft. "Great, the same goes to you."

He doesn't realize for how much longer the conversation goes; he only knows that Harry's voice feels hypnotizing, almost a trance like melody, while they exchange casual chatting as neither of them seem to want the call to end. 


	3. Chapter 3

A week goes smoothly and a routine settles easily between the distanced pair. Louis discovers that Harry is the kind of person that asks a lot of questions and seem always interested in the other person, in this case, Louis takes that role. The man still feels amazed when he wakes up everyday and sees that his phone is filled with Harry's messages, audio notes and even a few pictures that the singer dared to send through the days; nothing major, mostly photos of gigs he's working at, empty arenas, rehearsals and other simple aspects of his life backstage.

Louis' brain struggles to find a connection between the Harry he's texting, having daily interaction with and the Harry Styles that stars most of the entertainment news of Manchester's local channel. It always takes him a few seconds to realize that the songs that are constantly playing inside the coffee shop are from the same person that makes his phone buzz while he's on shift. He sees Harry's face on the big TV on the back room of the shop, participating on interviews, the same face and voice that calls him regularly.

He still haven't mentioned anything to Niall; he doesn't know why exactly, but maybe it has to do with the fact that he himself is still lost inside the limbo that are his and Harry's daily conversations. He doesn't know where it's going, or why exactly the famous, worldwide star, is choosing him above all people to call only to offer a simple goodnight before drifting off to sleep.

Louis also doesn't know _why_ it's been so difficult for him to accept Harry's interactions as more than friendly intended; or, as a matter of fact, he knows, but avoids it, the subject he isn't ready to deal with himself yet. He replied to Eleanor a couple days after his contacting with the singer began, and it proved him that he indeed, did not have the responses that she wanted.

He wanted his ex-girlfriend to understand, to _comprehend,_ but he knows he can't ask for it. Not after he's drawn out his relationship with her for long, too long, before he could sort out his questions within himself, and come to a sudden conclusion that swept away all of her hopes for a future with him. Sometimes, Louis felt like he was a monster, and it had stolen his sleep in some particular nights, but most of the time, he feels sorrowful for breaking someone's heart when all he wanted was confirmation that he, in fact, wasn't lost within his own identity.

But he was. At least, he believed he was.

So, the conversation with Harry wasn't a distraction, it was proof, mostly to himself, that he can't - and won't - live his life with a woman. Louis was faced with the facts once again, crashing like a harsh wave against in his mind everyday, even before he got to meet Harry. However, talking to the man made it harder for Louis to ignore it like he was before.

Louis is opening the door to his apartment when he hears his phone ringing; a specific ringtone he had chosen for Harry, the noise bouncing through the space.

"Hello?"

 _"Hi, Lou,"_ Harry's familiar voice echos. Louis' lips twist into a grin, result of the nickname that Harry had spontaneously given him. That was one of many things that left Louis stunned, the ability of the man to make your breath hitch with less than a whole sentence. He definitely understood Harry's status as a heart-throb. _"Just got to the hotel, grabbing a few things before I attend to an interview."_

"Which channel?" Louis asks. It's something they've gotten used to; the casualty without the physical presence, the easing flow of their communication, having the ability to talk about nothing and everything at the same time.

_"Ahn, good question. I'll know when I get there."_

"Fair enough." Louis chuckles and hear Harry doing the same. "Just got home as well. So glad it's Friday and I can sleep till midday tomorrow."

_"No going out tonight?"_

"With who? Niall is having a date night and I don't really have any other friends."

_"Well, we could go somewhere later."_

The offer hidden behind a possibility sets Louis' mind into a white-noise filled turbulence. He clutches his phone, blue eyes darting around his silent apartment. He can hear a siren going off outside, and the soft breathing on his ear.

" _Louis?"_

He coughs. "Yeah? Sorry, I'm here."

_"I'm sorry if that was too forward,"_

"No, it's alright, I-" Louis breathes, regains control of his lungs and fixates his gaze on the hardwood flooring of his kitchen. "We can go out, if you want."

_"Do you want to?"_

"Yes."

A few moments of silence grow between them. It was something else that Louis have gotten used to when it comes to Harry; the man processes things like he talks, slow and calm, thoughtful and melodious. It was the total opposite of how Louis' thinking and talking worked and maybe it was one of the aspects that made their conversation feel so complete and light, with sides that balanced each other out.

_"The interview ends around ten, do you think you can catch a ride to the address I'll send you now?"_

"Sure," Louis puts his phone on speaker and goes to their conversation, seeing the three dots transform into a text with an address that is unfamiliar to him. "What is it?"

_"It's a bar, almost club like. I've been there before and it's really nice and quiet, if you'd like that."_

"Of course, will I meet you there?"

_"Yes, but you'll probably get there first. It takes a while to tip off the paps and stuff,"_

"Oh, okay," Louis says, the familiar wave of realization hitting him again, leaving a trail of adrenaline in his frame as it goes. He wants to ask Harry if anyone could see him, could see _them_ , whatever that means within the phase they're in, but he doesn't. He has a feeling that it will make Harry feel bad, or conscious about putting Louis in a public, media filled spot.

That's another aspect of Harry that Louis recognized; the way the man deals with the pressure of the media, the crowds of fans that seem to follow him wherever he goes and the weight of the responsibility that he holds for dealing with the admiration coming from millions of people. It's one of the reasons that Louis is stunned when he talks to Harry and finds nothing but casualty in the way they interact, and kindness in the way he speaks. He can see it clearly;a goodhearted personality behind the figure that the media spreads, behind the hundreds of labels that the man had been mindlessly titled.

_"I have to go now, but, if you change your mind-"_

"I'll let you know." Louis interrupts with a smile. "I'm going to get ready then, call me if you need, yeah?"

The smiling tone in Harry's voice echos again. _"You too. I'll text you when I'm done and you can leave then."_

"Later, Haz."

They hang up then, and Louis has a fond smile splattered on his face. He had a few nicknames under his sleeves too.

The bar is smaller than Louis thought. There's a chill, relaxed atmosphere among the costumers, the sounds of their talking and laughter accompanied by soft music that plays in the background. If it wasn't for the purple lights and the endless amounts of bottles on shelves, it wouldn't come across as a bar.

Louis appreciates that Harry had chosen a spot like this, calm and organized, probably being the reason Harry liked it, since it was the opposite of most chaotic environments he's often surrounded by. Louis picks at the edge of his blue jeans jacket, fidgeting to keep himself distracted from any doubts or anxiety that may drive through his mind. He's settled close by the bar, standing by a high stool table as he watches people around interact and drink, unknown faces barely visible under the dimmed lights.

He's looking over at Harry's last text, _"I'm out, I'll be at the bar in thirty minutes",_ followed by his own response, offering confirmation. The man realizes it's been more than thirty minutes past that message, and the fact that Harry should appear at any minute makes him anxious. He's expecting flashing lights of cameras and a few surprised shouts and yelling fans that gather at the entrance of the bar, but none of that happens.

Louis is looking down, eyes fixated on his phone, killing time before he notices a silhouette approaching; he doesn't look up until the figure is close enough to touch. Louis is stunned when he spots the familiar green eyes, coated with a sheer layer of amusement.

"Harry," Louis says, almost whispering, and soon Harry is bending down to hug his frame. Louis takes in the embrace, his heart is beating fast and he glances over Harry's shoulder to see if anyone around them is watching the interaction or approaching the famous man that he has in his arms then. He finds out that no one is.

"It's so good to see you again," Harry speaks, voice too familiar for Louis as it echoes close to his ear. The clutch of Harry's arms is tight and comforting, much like the one he'd been given in the meet and greet almost a week prior to this encounter. However, Louis can't help but notice the difference, the new intent behind the grasp.

"I can definitely say the same." Louis says and he realizes that Harry isn't going to pull away unless he does, and as much as he's savoring the touch, he pulls back, not having time to recover before he's under Harry's intense gaze, bringing back the overwhelming pumping in his veins.

"I didn't think you would agree to come here with me." Harry admits with a dimpled smile emphasized by the flickering, soft lights.

Louis can't help but grin in response. He feel his nervousness dissipate as the easy flowing and familiar conversation takes place. "Well, here I am. And, you were right, the bar is really nice."

"Isn't it?" Harry blurted. "I like the privacy, it's really reserved. Also, great drinks in here."

Louis blinks in interest. He doesn't know if it's for the drinks or Harry. "Really?"

"I'll go get us a table in a nicer spot, alright?" Harry mentions and before pacing off, he presses a quick peck on the side of Louis' head.

The gesture leaves the smaller man stunned, stuck in place before he has any time to have a reaction or to say anything in response. He knew, only for the talks he's had with Harry through the phone and by the times he's watched the singer interact with people, that he was a very touchy person. He wasn't afraid to show affection or to demonstrate how much he cares for someone; that information leaves Louis in his place, eyes lost on the tablet top, mind wandering too much for his own good.

He notices that other people around his table are beginning to look towards his way, a few stolen glances that turn back as soon as he lands eyes on them. The lack of brightness doesn't allow Louis to analyze the expressions on people faces, so he ignores the feeling in his stomach that tells him that he's being looked in negative ways. His self-consciousness continues to grow until Harry shows up and steals away all his worry, as the man is pulling him slightly by his shoulder and pointing to an employee that opens a door for them.

"There's another part upstairs, you'll like it." Harry murmurs, only to him, and Louis forgets about the wide eyes around them and follows through.

There's a staircase that they go up and opens up to a larger room with less people that don't seem to be phased by Harry's presence, or his own. Louis notices that Harry is holding his hand, pulling him as they go up. The smaller man stares at their joined fingers and squeezes just a bit, questioning himself if he's really there, if this place is real, if Harry is real.

Louis is certain that he is when Harry glances back from his shoulders, and squeezes his fingers too.

"That one," Harry gestures to a table close to a large window, next to an arc made of some sort of marble that opens up to a balcony area, giving an amazing view of the city. Louis is stunned as he sits, watching Harry plop down across him on the comfortable chairs.

"It's so fucking beautiful." Louis says, not filtering his words as he glances out the window and takes in the view.

Harry's laugh captures his full attention then. It seemed to be something that Harry was good at, or Louis was vulnerable enough to let his focus drift towards the man so easily. "Indeed, it's one of the reasons why I like it here."

Drinks soon appear on their table top and Harry thanks the waiter kindly before he paces away. "I had an impression that you prefer beer, so I got us pine."

"Harry, you didn't have to buy me a drink." Louis says as the foam on their beer spills off to the side. The sight is inviting to their thirst.

"Of course I had to, I was the one who invited you." The singer responds with a bright expression.

"Fair. But the next drink is on me."

They grasp their large cups and cheer, before taking sips of the bitter, cold and smooth liquid. Louis peers and notices the rings that decorate Harry's hand, along with a cross tattoo that stamps his skin. The painted nails make him grin in adoration as Harry draws conversation, starting with a phrase that Louis was definitely not expecting.

"You're pretty."

The man almost chokes on his beer and smiles timidly, struggling to find words. "Ahn, thank you, Harry,"

"Sorry, I just had to get that out, somehow. I can't stop thinking about it since I got here and saw you."

Louis doesn't think he's in the same planet anymore, as he watches Harry's eyes study his features with an attentive grin. He doesn't feel overwhelmed or pressured, like he was feeling moments ago when they were downstairs, exposed to the judgmental gaze of an unfamiliar crowd.

"Don't apologize, then. I feel the same way." Louis declares, observing Harry's features twist into a smile that he could only imagine in his head through all this time.

The pines keep coming then, and so does Harry's questions about Louis' life. The man is truly someone that wants to know it all and craves the sharing of stories that Louis is holding, and soon telling them to Harry.

It amazes Louis, the patience and curiosity of Harry's personality, when the singer himself probably holds the most interesting and eventful stories; after all, he is worldwide known, adored by millions and was once part of a even more popular band. And yet, he sits across Louis, his elbows on the table as he leans in to hear Louis' not as adventurous tales, from funny childhood memories to the struggles of leaving a small town and moving to the big city of Manchester with not much on his luggage but dreams of attending university once he gets the enough money to do so.

"How is Doncaster?" Harry questions, genuine curiosity coating his furrowed brows.

Louis licks his lips, softly numb by the alcohol in his veins. "Small, quiet, but really beautiful town."

"Do you miss it?"

"Sometimes, yeah." Louis responds. "Although I'm drawn to the big city, there's times where I want to be quiet, feel at peace, and that's hard to find in this place where everything is rushed and crowded."

He can see in Harry's eyes that the singer truly, genuinely understands. "I came from a small town too, so I get it."

"It's probably a lot harder for you to find peace though." Louis says and Harry shrugs.

"Not really, I find comfort in the things I do for work. It's always loud and rushed, like you said, but I enjoy it."

"Doesn't it bother you at times? Being the center of attention wherever you go?" Louis was slowly taking the role with the questions then.

"Sometimes, but I have my moments of peace." Harry's eyes are traveling through the table top, before they rise to lock on Louis'. A grin is born on his expression as his hand reaches out across the table.

Louis doesn't hesitate to reach out as well, feeling Harry's grasp take his fingers with a soft, almost caring way. His thumb dances across Louis' knuckles and they share a fond smile. Louis doesn't believe that he is, in fact, in this universe. He's convinced that he's lost within a figure that not only steals all his attention, but locks it in, holding his heart hostage in a place that he doesn't want to leave.

"This is one of my moments of peace." Harry announces and if there wasn't music playing softly around them, Louis is sure that everyone in the room would be able to hear the beat of his heart.

"I'm glad I get to be that for you." Louis replies, grinning back at the man.

They stop at the fourth pine, or was it the fifth? The moon is high when they step out into the balcony area and the cold wild blow against their bodies, immediately making Louis' skin shiver under his jacket. Harry's mess of brown curls dance under the mercy of the breeze, his dimples contrasted with the city lights. Louis thinks it looks like stars reflected on his eyes.

Louis feels like he should say something, or maybe it's the lack of filter in his mind, thanks to the alcohol. He's not drunk, but he feels his blood buzzing through his system, enough to make him giggle at anything that seems remotely funny.

They learn against the glass and metal railing, balances slightly off as they stand there, appreciating the silence, the muffled music from inside being nothing more than a soundtrack to the combination of their soft breathing.

"Are you cold?" Harry asks, but doesn't wait for a response before he's wrapping one arm around Louis' frame and pulling him closer. Louis snuggles at his side, one of his own arms snaking around Harry's waist. "I'm so glad I'm here now. With you."

Louis glances up at Harry's words, infatuation written all over his features and he knows; he knows and he doesn't care, not when he's stunned to hear that the one man that could be _anywhere_ in the world if he wanted to, was glad to be there, beside him, _with him._

"Me too, Harry." Louis doesn't recognize the nervousness he felt before tonight. He doesn't comprehend how he could have questioned this, questioned Harry and their unexpected growing bond, when the answer was as clear as the starry sky above them. He spots adoration in Harry's eyes, and he wants nothing in the world but the night to never end.


	4. Chapter 4

It's a warm Saturday and the midday sun is blasting outside when Louis wakes up.

The man is still drunk with sleep when memories of the previous night wash over him, bringing a smile to his face even before he has enough strength to get out of his bed. His phone is on the nightstand and he knows that there will be messages from Harry, and the certainty of the fact makes him excited to begin his day. He's fixing himself late breakfast while he responds to the texts, the lovely words that shine on the screen of his mobile, appreciative phrases that makes his heart flutter.

 _"I had a great time, can't wait to see you again. Thanks for agreeing to go out with me."_ The sweet text is followed by a heart emoji - of course, Harry would send something like that - and another message bellow, sent in the early hours of the morning while Louis was deep in sleep. " _Morning! Hope you have a nice and late sleep in. Text me when you wake up. Miss you already."_

Louis grins as he sips his coffee, replying; "Just woken up. Thank you for the lovely time yesterday, I absolutely loved it. Missing you too."

He assumes that Harry won't reply until late afternoon, knowing he's probably busy, out doing some sort of media work. Louis has learned that Harry is always in a rush around the city, and the thought that it must be a routine everywhere he goes leaves a trace of concern for the man. He's occupied almost twenty-four-seven, having barely any time for himself before he has to go along with a full schedule and perform more stunts that come with his public person job.

In fact, Louis recalls the ease in which Harry took the final minutes of their date; Louis had to leave later on, after the paparazzi's and the fans outside where long gone along with Harry. People from inside the bar probably informed his whereabouts, which caused a commotion to form outside the place. Pictures of Harry leaving the bar were spread out through social media and Louis saw it. It caused another click on his brain, something that happens once in a while, when he realizes who he's getting himself involved with. However, the bliss of being with Harry proved to be stronger than the insecurity that runs deep within his veins.

It's the evening when Harry calls, telling adventures of his long, overloaded day that Louis is more than happy to listen, and even more happy to know that Harry feels comfortable enough to share his day with him, continuing their talk as the night falls and their words to one another transform into lovely conversations that hold nothing in particular but the crave to hear each other's voices. They both fall asleep with the call still on, Louis in his couch and Harry in his hotel room, peaceful breathing echoing through their phones.

Sunday appears to be just as warm as the previous day. Niall is letting himself feel comfortable in Louis' couch as they crack open their beer and sit back, watching sports on the TV as it has become a tradition for the pair of friends. "How was date night?" Louis asks spontaneously, while the referee on the big screen blows a loud whistle, announcing some foul move between the football players, which Louis' attention failed to notice.

"Fine, the usual, took my girl out, had dinner, then dessert-" Niall turns his face to show a wicked grin and wiggling eyebrows.

Louis rolls his eyes. "Too much information, mate," He sips his gelid beer, "Disgusting."

Niall chuckles loudly, eyes on the TV, watching some athlete roll around in the grass in pain. "Hey, don't tell me you wouldn't do the same if you weren't single."

Louis doesn't know if he should feel a sting by the reminder of having bad blood with Eleanor, or if he should fight back an amused grin that threatened to appear on his face by memories of Harry. He knows that they aren't an item, not officially, but the way they have been hitting it off tells him they would be something, or at least, they should. He chooses to grin. "Who says you have to date to get laid?"

Another laugh from the Irish man, coated in surprise and amusement. "Is there some bird messing with ya that I don't know about?"

Louis only shakes his head and points to the TV, drawing his friend's attention away from him. He feels his heartbeat stumbling, threatening to quicken while he's thinking, the football match long gone in his mind.

He doesn't know how he can come to terms with this.

Louis is faced with the fact that he is not straight. It's something that was always present in his brain, like an annoying reminder that knocked on the base of his skull everyday of his life. He managed to carry on without addressing it, going through his teenage years with protectiveness over this faded, clouded secret that felt like a secret even to himself. Growing up in a small town, the chances of being rejected for being different were high, while the chances of having someone to identify with, to bond over the same characteristics, were too low for him to take the risk.

Being with girls didn't feel wrong, but never felt right either. He heard his friends talk about the bliss, the highs of being with a woman, the sensations and the blooming, boyish, hormonal desires that he never truly found. He pushed himself to go through relationships because he thought he would change, but of course, he never did.

Eleanor was sweet, the kindest girl he had ever met, a lovely soul that frequented the coffee shop and left her number on a note for Louis to find. They had similar dreams, fears and stories to share. She was nothing but good to him, and that is what hurts the most; he wish he could hate her, like she hated him right now.

Sometimes he thinks he hates himself too.

He never lied, he did love her, but there was always something missing, something that Louis couldn't pin-point until the day his mind decided to let it all out; coming out to himself was a cloudy time, lacking of pride, surrounded with shame and with the realization that he couldn't be with her anymore. Not while she could be with someone that truly loved her, and not someone that only held affection for her.

Louis' mind drifts back into reality when he sips his beer and it is warm. Groaning from the bad taste, he heads to his kitchen, hearing Niall's shouts and complaints directed to the game. Louis chuckles, allowing himself to breathe before his phone begins to buzz nonstop in his pocket and he feels his breathing pick up again. He glances at Niall, who's distracted by the match, and picks up the call, knowing exactly who it was before he could hear the voice.

"Hello?"

 _"Hey!"_ Harry's cheerful tone echos in his mind. It blooms a good feeling in his chest. _"Got a break from work now, wanted to check up on you."_

"I'm doing good, my friend and I are just watching a game." Louis informs and he can tell that Harry has a dimpled grin on his face, matching one of his own. It's involuntary at this point, how his muscles act when anything related to Harry is brought up. It's the bliss and the sensation that he's been missing all this time. "How are things over there?"

_"Pretty normal, boring even. Wish I was with you."_

Louis chuckles, leaning against his counter. His kitchen floor never looked so interesting as he fixates his eyes there. "Wish you were here too. Been missing you, y'know?"

 _"I hope so, because I'm on the same boat. I think of you all the time."_ Harry expresses and Louis can't help but feel a warmth come up his spine and blush his cheeks.

"Good thing I'm just one call away, then."

_"Can we see each other again this week?"_

Louis thinks for a second. "Yeah, after work, I'm always free."

 _"After seven, then?"_ Louis is smiling when he realizes Harry knows exactly when he's leaving work, memorizing small parts of his day even when his own are busy enough already. Louis is sure that his actions speak louder than words. _"I'll think of something."_

He smiles and he knows that Harry is smiling too. "Good luck back there, Haz. Call me later, yeah?"

_"Always."_

Maybe it's a promise that Harry doesn't really mean, but to Louis, it means that his mind can relax, his fears can leave and the tension that constantly wraps around his bones can dissipate. All by few words, from one person in particular. Louis knows he's falling fast and hard, and it scares him sometimes, but for the first time in his life, he feels right, complete, not only following through with someone in attempts to prove himself that he can change.

He can't change, but even if he could, he wouldn't.

As the call ends, Louis thinks that for the first time, he's proud of who he is.

His heart is beating fast, but it's not from fear or anxiety. He can't stop smiling at the small gestures from Harry that caused him to feel like this. Louis wonders that even if they don't work out together in the end, he'll be always grateful for having him, even just for a while, being it enough to open doors that he never knew were closed shut before.

He comes back to the living room with two beer, cracks them open and hands one for Niall. He glances at the man and thinks, eyes locked on his friend's frame long enough for Niall to question; "What?"

Louis glances down and sips his beer, laying back on his couch with an unimaginable relaxation. "I gotta tell you something."

"Alright, tell me." Niall asks curiously, his blue eyes holding a serious tone that Louis doesn't think fits his friend.

Louis breathes, sips his beer, and finds no traces of fear and hesitation in his system before he states; "I'm gay."

The words echo in his mind over and over again, but they don't feel like a negative reminder any longer.

Niall seems surprised and it's understandable; the Irish watched Louis and Eleanor's relationship from the start, even witnessing their harsh breakup, although he never got the reason why until then. There's traces of some emotions running through Niall's expression, but none of them are negative; most are confused, some look like he's waiting for Louis to say it's only a joke, and he can tell that his friend is thinking of a lot of questions to shoot.

However, the man only smiles. "I'm happy that you choose to tell me, Louis."

Louis shrugs and grins. "Me too."

"You know that it doesn't change anything between us, yeah? I support you."

They smile in unison.

The rest of the game is long forgotten by the pair, as Sunday fade into the evening and Louis is answering endless questions from Niall, appreciating that his friend is taking everything well and even making humor out of it. Louis, of course, tells him everything, only leaving out the parts that involve Harry; that's a story that he would have to tell his friend later on, when he himself had the answers for it.

When Louis and Harry meet again, it's in yet another private place, but a lot less quiet. It's also a pub, but is more crowded, bigger, and he can see a gathering of people towards the back of the bar, where he assumes is the dance hall. Purple lights are reflecting on Louis' skin as he enters; this time, Harry is inside already, waiting for the man. He spots the tall singer, mop of curls becoming clearer as he approached, long legs wrapped in colorful, stamped pants.

"Hey!" Harry exclaims, not hesitant to take Louis into the embrace that is growing dangerously familiar to him. Louis breathes in the man's cologne, and all his nervousness from anticipation for this moment fades away almost instantly.

"Hi, missed you." Louis tells, close to his ear, and he can feel Harry smiling against his neck.

Soon, the pair is pacing towards the bar, grabbing drinks - on Louis, this time, with reluctance from Harry - and talking out their usual easy rhythmic conversation, sipping on their beverages until they are feeling loose enough for Harry to grab ahold of Louis' hand and pull him towards the dance floor.

The music is loud and Louis can only make out what Harry is saying because the taller man is bending down, pulling him close and murmuring on the bottom of his ear; "Dance with me."

He doesn't recognize most of the songs and notices that he has no sense of rhythm whatsoever; it even takes a giggle out of Harry. However, he feels alive in that spot, with his hands either up in the air or down to press on Harry's shoulders and waist as they dance. He feels intoxicated by Harry, and everything that surrounds him feels like it's not real. During several moments, he catches glimpses of the man's bright orbs, dimples deep within his cheeks and mostly, his indescribably radiant smile, and Louis is certain that he's an illusion.

Harry makes him feel younger, youthful. Louis can feel every nerve come alive, as if he could _breathe_ for the first time in too long. He forgets the worries and uncertainties that may be haunting his mind the slightest, and all his focus is on Harry. He's infatuated with the man and he can tell by the lingering touches of Harry's ringed fingers on his jaw, that he feels the same.

He remembers seeing Harry dance on stage the first time he had laid eyes on him, and recalls finding amusement in the man's somewhat coordinated moves. He can tell that Harry is enjoying himself, and he does on the dance floor what he does on stage because he loves it all. It hits Louis then, that he could be in front of a thousand people, but he choose Louis to dance with, to dance _for._

Louis is beginning to feel tired and Harry's curls are everywhere when he's pulling the smaller man towards a door in the back. "Want to go outside a tad?" Harry asks, voice breathless, but so alive at the same time. Louis only nods and he pushes the door, revealing a short hallway that leads to a couple doors, probably the bathrooms, and a small staircase that has a few people walking down from.

Louis is stunned by the view, once again. It's a terrace, quite empty with only a few employees and security walking around as music continues playing downstairs. He can feel the bass on the sole of his shoes as he paces towards the railing, and they are leaning against it once again, almost reliving their first date. It doesn't feel repetitive, it feels like it's something that belongs to _them._

"I swear, these places you take me to have the nicest views." Louis speaks and he can feel the wind wipe his words away, blowing it off to the city of Manchester that shines in front of them, lit under the moonlight.

Of course, no light compares to the one in Harry's eyes, as he looks aside and finds himself stuck inside the intimate gaze.

"You only think that because you're not seeing yourself right now." Harry murmurs, only for him and the stars to listen. "You're blushing," He states while Louis looks down briefly.

"Shut up,"

"It's adorable."

Louis' skin begin to shiver as the breeze ran by, but he doesn't feel the need to hide from it. He wants to feel it all, and he recognizes that it's something else that Harry awakened in him; the chase, almost a need, to feel anything the fullest. He can't believe he's been depriving himself of the simplest things for so long; he didn't realized it until he craved it.

"Can I tell you something?" Harry's voice is soft against the harshness of the city's nightly outline.

"Always."

They breathe deeply, as if they couldn't before. "I had the biggest crush on you from the moment I spotted you."

Louis grins. "You only want to see me blush again,"

"That as well, but it's true. I thought you looked so bright, everything about you stunned me from the start, and as we kept talking, calling, this feelings only got more and more intense,"

Harry is talking and Louis is expecting the world around him to fade away, become dust and drift off at the mercy of the cold wind. He's almost sure this isn't a reality, _his_ reality, where someone as beautiful as Harry is saying those direct words to him.

He notices a hint of something more in the man's eyes, a lingering question.

"I wanted to know if you want to keep this going."

For that, Louis inhales the cold like it's a warm summer breeze, feelings his lungs wanting to scream for a positive answer. "I do, Haz." He confirms and ponders for a moment, "You know, I'm not going to say that I'm completely unafraid to have this with you. But I'm more than willing to try."

Harry smiles and he approaches, an arm coming up press Louis tighter against him. "That's all I could ever ask for." He rests his cheek on top of Louis' head and closes his eyes, in a blissful gesture that Louis can't see. "Thank you for giving me a chance,"

"I should be the one saying that, y'know?" Louis speaks softly with a humoring tone.

"Nonsense. Also, if you ever decide that you don't want it anymore, would you tell me?"

"Yes, would you?"

"Of course. Promise?"

"Promise."

The stars and the dancing, dark clouds witness their quiet promises, as Louis wishes that this moment would freeze in time and play over and over again, until he's tired of hearing those sweet words leave Harry's mouth; he thinks it might take one, maybe even two, eternities.

It's something so perfect that doesn't feel like he deserves it. He believes it's the expectation of something bright that is yet to come, creates in his mind an endless list of antithesis that has filled his life up until this point, and it's all Harry's fault; a dazzling idea of future against his faded past, the colors in Harry's world against the grey in his, the soft curves of Harry's smile against his own sharp features. Even the warmth of their bodies, against the cold of the night, brings to Louis the sensation that maybe the theory that there is someone out there that completes you is actually true. He forgets the term he's heard before that means exactly that, but it doesn't matter.

He believes, genuinely, that his someone is right there beside him.

"Harry," Louis calls before he has a chance to stop himself. He decides he doesn't want to stop himself anymore. His fear of taking risks feels long gone when he's inside the singer's arms.

Harry only hums in response, green eyes still glued to the view of the city until he hears the question;

"Can I kiss you?"

Louis' voice isn't trembling, his hands aren't unsure when he touches Harry's face, watching as the man's features twist into happiness while he nods in response. The shorter man pulls him down ever so slightly, bringing their lips into a light, barely-there grazing touch, before neither of them can contain the crave. Louis realizes it's his first time kissing another man and it couldn't be more perfect. Harry's lips are soft and slow, gentle like his voice and his speech. Louis' fingers drown in the soft curls of Harry's hair while he feels the other man's hands cradling his jaw mildly, not feeling the need to hold him, knowing that Louis wouldn't leave that place so soon.

Harry's right. He doesn't. Louis feels the blanks and the empties inside him fill with everything that means _Harry._ All the parts of him that felt dark and unsure are crashed with waves of color and light. For once, Louis feels right, complete, while he continues to kiss Harry, drawing back to look up at him, as if he's making sure that he's real, only to pull him back again with more intent each time. Harry himself feels like the lights around him go dimmed, lost within the blue of Louis' eyes, and the weight of everything that rests on his shoulders dissipates in the air around them.

Louis swears he can feel the cold wind turn into gleaming fire when he remembers the term he's forgotten before; the term is _soulmate,_ and he's sure he found it in Harry's lips. 


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as Harry's plane took off at the end of the week, although Louis wasn't at the airport to watch him fly away, he could feel the longing starting to settle deep within his bones. The coffee shop is always quieter on Mondays, which usually is something that Louis enjoys, however, the quietness around him that day makes him feel oddly alone as he works his shift.

Louis is preparing a short number of orders, feet moving side to side as he works behind the counter, watching the sun bleed into the establishment through the large windows. His mind is anywhere but there, his focus only coming back when he feels his his phone buzzing under his apron. He glances around before pulling his mobile out, and when his supervisor is nowhere to be seen, he opens the text with excitement on his stomach.

_"Just landed in London. Thought of you the entire flight."_

He smiles. He can imagine clear in his head, Harry leaving the plane and crossing the airport, long legs carrying him through a sea of fans and people eager to take his picture and have his attention.

"Can't get you off my mind either. Manchester misses you already."

_"Just Manchester?"_

Louis grins at Harry's text, responding with ease;

"I miss you too, just little bit."

 _"Well, I miss you a lot."_ He replies and quickly places his phone back on his pocket, focusing on his order again, with a fond smile on his face this time.

Louis has thought about being seen with Harry, and for now it's a sensation that doesn't bring many positive traces.

He knows that people are quick to judge, even more so when it comes to such a big star as Harry. The both of them haven't talked about the aspects of their relationship and the possibility of people spotting them or figuring it out soon enough. For now, Louis is happy that he can take coffee orders and work behind the counter in peace, while Harry's face flashes on the TV eventually.

Louis hears someone approaching him that he assumes is a costumer, while his head is down. He lifts his gaze with a smile, ready to do his job before familiar eyes, full of anger and mistrust, quickly wipes his smile away. Eleanor stands with crossed arms and nothing but coated violence in her expression. Louis feels his heart drop, the fondness and peace that memories of Harry brought him now felt distant, too far to grasp.

"I want to talk to you." She hisses in a demanding tone.

He breathes, remaining calm behind the register. "El, I'm working."

"Don't you call me that-" She cuts herself off, as if she knows that she will lose control of her own behavior if she goes along that path. Louis thinks that she might. "I want to talk, now." The woman repeats.

They were together long enough for Louis to know that the stubbornness behind her brown eyes won't leave; it never did in the handful of arguments they had. The coffee shop felt less quiet, her voice echoing inside the place, and all that Louis can see is Eleanor, but it isn't the type of focus that makes him relax or feel grounded; it's the focus that takes away all possibilities of peace, it's a tunnel vision that shows nothing but darkness.

"Okay, wait," Louis turns, spots Niall entering through the staff's door and gestures to his friend to approach quickly, glad that he showed up just at the right time.

Niall's grin also drops when he sees Eleanor, his shoulders visibly tense as he approaches and take Louis' spot behind the register. Louis shoots him a grin that is a mixture of appreciation and anticipation for something utterly negative. Niall feels the same, but only nods, and watches the ex-couple disappear through the same door he entered.

Louis guides them to a back room, relieved to find out that no other employee are there then, and shuts the door behind Eleanor as she stomps inside and turns, her wavy brown hair whipping around her. Louis can read every trace of negative emotions that are running through her mind and it's scary; he's always hated arguments, no matter how small.

"Eleanor-" He tries, but she is quick to interrupt.

"Just listen, alright?" She protests and her hand comes up, then turning to pinch the bridge of her nose in annoyance. "I want the truth, Louis."

"What?" He asks, genuinely confused.

"You heard me. Come on! We were together for almost two years, and all you could come up with in the end was a lie?" She objected with a questioning tone.

Louis finds it difficult for him to breathe properly. His eyes are everywhere but locked in her figure, the room feels suddenly small. He remembers the times where Eleanor would pull him to that very same room to make out, stealing him for short breaks during his shift.

He finally manages to look at her, with no intent to speak, until she spits;

"You cheated, didn't you?"

To that, he finds a reaction, a harsh shaking of his head. "No, absolutely not, you know I'd never do that to you, or to anyone, and what I told you was the truth."

Eleanor's anger is overwhelming as she smiles, but there's nothing beautiful and bright about the gesture and Louis can read it all. "Honestly Louis, saying that you're gay to get out of a relationship is disgusting. Disrespectful, even."

He doesn't think that his heart could drop any lower than it already has, but it does. It does when he hears the tone of her saying those words, the malice behind her speech, almost manipulating-like. Louis feels his chest getting smaller as breathing becomes difficult. He tries to find the same pride and confidence he managed to grow in the past week, but it is nowhere to be seen. He feels defeat splattered across his entire body, all his strength reunited to quietly murmur;

"It's true, Eleanor,"

There's a pause, and Louis can almost feel the bitterness in her voice before she speaks. "Then come out."

His chest feels nonexistent then, lungs dissipated into the thick, tension-filled air around them. "What?"

"Come out. Tell everyone. Be truthful to your words." Her eyes are hollow and pitiful, squinting as she smiles. The only reason Louis can find for that smile is an attempt to make him feel humiliated. "Does your family know?"

The mention of his family settles panic into his stomach. Eleanor is throwing low blows at him and he knows; she is aware of his situation with his family, how he's disconnected to his parents for multiple reasons, but mostly for the lack of support he got during the time he decided to leave his small hometown. He couldn't imagine how they would react if they found out.

"T-that's not how this works. I told Niall, you can ask him." He stutters and hates the way his voice almost breaks.

She continues smiling, indignation coating her features. "Oh, sure, and your lad will cover it up for you."

"I don't know what you want from me." He says, voice wavering with panic and emotions that he can't explain.

"I want proof that what you told me wasn't a complete lie!" She shouts, her voice bouncing off the walls around them.

Louis doesn't understand, doesn't get why she's there in front of him then, requiring nonexistent answers. He doesn't know why she wants another reason for their breakup, why she can't accept the one she's been given. Louis' mind is messy and he can't quite grasp any confidence, but he thinks for a moment and realizes that he, truly, shouldn't be there listening to what she's saying.

"I don't own you anything." He speaks, voice barely a whisper, and that seems to make her expression fall.

Silence take over for a few moments and Louis feels like he can breathe again, as if the sound of her voice had stolen all his oxygen away. Eleanor looks at him almost expectantly, as if she's waiting for him to reveal something that she doesn't know. That makes Louis find his pride again, recoiled back into some corner of his brain, coming back as his mind clicks into place. Memories of Eleanor were sweet, and it ached to see her hurting, so much so that he carved self-loathing into his heart, mixed with the shame of being different. However, he recognized he had no reason to be ashamed about, and she had no reason to ask him for anything.

Years of hiding himself and being scared made him create a habit of putting other people's needs before his own. Made him believe that he truly wasn't worth of love or deserving of success, as he had let people walk over him all his life, including his family. Louis was always hesitant to stand up for himself, however, with everything that has been going on with his life lately, he finally realized he doesn't need - doesn't want - to feel scared anymore.

"I don't have to prove anything to you. Even if I was lying, which I'm not, we're through, and I don't own you shit."

It feels like a weight lifted off his spine when he speaks and she doesn't have an instant reply. Her eyes look faded, maybe from realization within herself, to notice that she truly had no reason to be there.

He decides that he's done with the situation, done with her."Get out and let me work." He hisses, matching her demanding tone from the start of the discussion.

"This is your last chance-"

Her voice makes his lungs collapse. "Get out!" He spits, letting his own voice bounce off the walls this time.

Anger is back on her face as she stomps towards the door and aggressively announces before leaving; "You're going to regret this."

The door is slammed shut and Louis finds himself alone with the echo of the noise. He feels lighter with the lack of her presence, but the weight of the argument is evident in the air, crashing down upon him as he feels like he wants to cry. The man sits in one of the chairs that are placed there, next to the table, deep inhales and exhales making his chest rise and fall, until all the overwhelming tension leave his body and the traces of panic dissipate.

Louis comes back to the front of the shop a few moments later and is relieved to find only Niall there, any indications of Eleanor or any other staff members gone from sight.

"You're alright?" Niall asks concerned, murmuring inside the usual quietness of the establishment. It's a Monday, after all.

"Yes." He lies.

Louis feels numb throughout the rest of his shift and during his drive back home. He sighs relieved as he reaches his apartment, finding all the hints of the things he enjoy and that make him happy, mostly stuff he bought himself along the almost three years of living alone in such a big city. He likes his place; for him, it's a reminder that he will be fine, he made it, he grinds to get what he wants, and that's enough confirmation for him to think that everything will be alright.

It's almost eight o'clock, he's fresh out of the shower and mentally tired when Harry calls.

_"Hey!"_

The familiar voice and tone makes Louis grin slightly. "Hi,"

 _"You don't sound alright."_ The singer is quick to point out, not much to Louis' surprise. He's aware of Harry's impressive sensibility, or maybe he's just wears his heart on his sleeve and his emotions are evident even on his voice. He's comes to the conclusion that it's a combination of both. _"What's wrong?"_

Louis sighs. Images of Eleanor's anger flash his mind, but he stops himself from letting his mind go further. He decides she's not worth it right now. "Nothing, just a bad day."

_"Want to talk about it? I'm at the hotel and got nothing for the rest of the day. Was waiting for you to get home."_

There's something in Harry's words that makes Louis feels comfortable, at ease. He's never homesick when he talks to Harry. Maybe it's the simplicity in which the man communicates, or the slow speed of his speech, that makes Louis' heartbeat attempt to match it.

"I don't want to, really. But I'd love to hear about your day."

Harry doesn't push it, and he appreciates it.

It's early May when Louis manages to get a two-week vacation from his work. He realizes it's almost completing a month into knowing Harry and he can safely say that it's been the most eventful month of his life so far, with changes not only around him, but within himself.

Of course, Harry is to blame for the most part, in the most positive meaning possible. Speaking of the singer, Louis receives a call from him sometime during the morning, in the time that he's usually at work, but this time he's still in bed, rewarding himself with sleep in the first day of his vacation.

"Morning," Louis says, voice rough with recent slumber against the speaker of his phone, tucked between his ear and his pillow.

 _"Were you asleep? Sorry, good morning! It's almost one in the afternoon, Lou,"_ He listens to Harry's chuckles and feels instantly awake. He quickly looks at his screen and confirms that, in fact, it's half past midday. _"Having a day off?"_

"More like two weeks." He responds, groaning and turning to the side, hands grasping the phone and rubbing his eyes. "Got a vacation."

 _"Really?"_ Harry questions with some intent behind it that he can't identify. _"That's great, what are you planning to do?"_

Louis sighs. Sometimes, he can't help but to compare his routine with Harry's. In a period of a week, the singer has traveled to at least three different places and Louis assumes that he's been doing public stunts basically every single day, since he's been so relevant in the media lately. He feels bad at times when Harry calls him late at night, losing precious hours of sleep; Louis makes sure to always appreciate Harry making time for him and putting effort into their long-distance - soon to be official, Louis hopes - relationship.

So, when Louis has no plans whatsoever for his time-off of work, he can't help but to feel that twinge of guilt, as if it wasn't fair to Harry. "To be honest, nothing."

Louis is glad when Harry laughs a bit. _"Sounds like fun, though."_

The man hums in response and gets out of bed. He makes breakfast while Harry's on speaker, and Louis can only imagine what would it feel like to have domestic scenarios with him. He can see it; the tall man lingering around the kitchen, watching him cook or part-taking on the task, curls twisted into bed-head and tired eyes adding nothing but light and color to Louis' day.

They end the call soon before Louis begins to eat and Harry has to leave his hotel in the city he's in, that Louis can't remember which since he's constantly loses track of Harry's location updates and forgets. Harry even adorably commented on his short memory once, and it made Louis glad that they were in a call so the other man wouldn't see him blush.

It's the end of the afternoon when Harry calls again, around the time that Louis would be leaving work, and the singer holds an excited tone when Louis picks up.

 _"Lou!"_ He says, voice blasting through the speakers and Louis can't help but chuckle at the sudden mannerism that was so utterly _Harry._

"Tell me all about it." Louis says as he sits down on his couch, where he spent most of his day in. He's expecting Harry to share his day and the eventual crazy tales that happen around the singer's routine. He finds it surprising sometimes to listen about things that went wrong backstage, funny stunts and absurd experiences. Also, Louis absolutely adores the way that Harry tells them.

However, instead of a story, comes a question, and it has Louis stunned in the best way possible. 

_"What do you think about spending a few days with_ _me?"_


	6. Chapter 6

The train to London takes a bit more time than Louis expected.

To be fair, it's been a long time since he's been on a transport for more than two hours, and it makes him anxious; or maybe, it's the thought - and the fact - that he would be with Harry in a few hours. After a lot of questioning from Louis, and more confirmation from Harry, the man decides to go and take the invited, short trip, one that Harry insisted on paying the tickets for, although they weren't so expensive.

Louis has his earbuds in, listening to, unsurprisingly, Harry's music. He's admitted to Harry before that he didn't know all about his discography and past works, and it took a laugh out of the singer. He decides that every song that has Harry's beautiful voice in it is an immediate favorite, loving the passion he puts into his music. It seems like everything the man touches, its instantly filled with love, and Louis is sure that this probably includes himself, too.

His phone is constantly buzzing, messages from Harry every ten minutes asking Louis where he is. The man can't help but fond over the other man's excitement to see him, as he makes sure that Harry knows that he is more than thrilled to see him too. He packed his bag like he was going away for a month; probably all of his nice clothes were shoved in there, and he had chosen at least two pairs of shoes that he almost never wears. Louis knows himself for that matter, knows that his nervousness normally are shown through his actions, and that was one of his ways to deal with the warm anxiety.

He didn't know how Harry made time for that occasion. Only few days is a lot to ask of Harry's schedule, but he's more than grateful. It's another proof that the singer is, in fact, putting effort into _them,_ and it makes his heart beat fast with a sensation he's never felt before. It's warm and colorful, intense like Harry and he doesn't want it to stop.

London is colder than Louis expected, but the city is so pleasant that he doesn't mind the chills in his skin. It's been a long time since he's been out of Manchester and it hits him that once again, Harry is making him take risks he wouldn't before.

He carries his bag through the station after he exits the train, and thinks that the place looks like an airport of sorts. He avoids the feeling in his gut that tells him that he's going to get lost, and instead finds his way out and grabs a cab outside rather quickly, giving Harry's address to the driver. He felt like he had some sort of treasure in his phone when Harry typed the address of his London house. Not that it was a secret; probably most fans knew the location, but having Harry disclose it to him gave him the sensation of a confidential information.

Louis smiles as he looks through the window and makes small talk with the driver, watching London's view come to life before him, all the sweet characteristics of England's heart dancing on his vision.

He remembers Harry apologizing for not being able to pick him up, and Louis had told him endless time that it didn't make him upset. Fans already knew that he was in London and being in such a public place as the station would make Louis' trip a nightmare towards the end of it. Being seen with Harry wasn't something that he was ready for. Gladly, the two of them had communicated about it, and Harry was, as always, understanding.

He texted the singer when the driver told him they were close. "Five minutes away, Haz." And sent a picture of the street he was in.

Harry send a silly emoji and a picture of him sitting on his large, quite private porch. _"Waiting."_

The picture sent a mixture of feelings through Louis' body; one of laughter, finding amusement in the situation, and one of fondness. Harry was too adorable and he found himself gushing over the man quite a lot.

His heart nearly stopped beating when the driver announced the end of their trip soon enough, pulling over in front of a similar gate that was pictured in the photo Harry had sent. Louis paid the man and he drove away after taking out his bag from the backseat, and Louis found himself standing before a large entrance, hiding behind a quite private home. The gate opens when he rings the buzzer, Louis enters, and as it closes, he can see Harry's tall figure approaching with hurry from the small staircase of his front porch.

"Louis!" Harry shouts, his accent thick on his voice.

Louis, on the other hand, is silent, not being able to find his own voice as he's being crushed inside Harry's tight embrace. He can feel the craving behind the gesture, and it makes every bit of negative emotion that could be lingering in his mind disappear as he glances up into green eyes. They kiss, and it tastes like longing.

"I can't believe you're here." Harry whispers, arms around his shoulders, foreheads touching.

"Me neither." Louis laughs and kisses him again, just to be sure that he's really there. "I'm so happy." He announces with honesty.

"Me too." Harry looks down at him with nothing but happiness as well. "We're disgusting, aren't we?"

They laugh in unison under the cloudy weather. Louis is convinced that there's something magic about London, or maybe it was Harry's touch, once again.

Harry's house isn't huge; it is big, spacious, but it has a home-like feeling, a domestic settling that makes Louis feel instantly comfortable while Harry shows him around, offering him a tour, his bag in the singer's grip. There's soft colors, pastel tones that decorate the furniture around the place, going surprisingly well with the earthy tones of the walls and the flooring. It's a place that screams _Harry_ and it's probably the main reason why Louis feels serene there.

Going up to the second floor, Harry shows Louis his master bedroom, then his guest room, where he offers Louis to stay in if the man wants to have his own space and privacy. Although Louis is certain that they won't be wanting to be distanced any longer, he accepts it with gratefulness, taking his clothes out of his bag and placing it in the dresser, with Harry's insistent help, of course.

It's half past six when Harry offers him dinner, which Louis accepts without hesitance; he's only had breakfast that day and the evening is already setting outside.

"Could you grab two plates from that cabinet, please?" Harry asks him as he's mixing their food in a hot pan. Louis scrambles in his feet, rushing to the cabinet Harry's pointing at and picking what the singer asked for.

Louis is learning that Harry has a very domestic essence to him. It's not something he expected out of a well-known celebrity - although Harry had mentioned that he doesn't like that label - but it's an aspect that Louis felt familiar to. As they moved around in the kitchen, wearing casual t-shirts and sweats, feet covered in socks, Louis can almost be certain that they've done this before; that they've been in that same scenario sometime, maybe, in another life.

It feels smooth, easy the way they got along during such a domiciliary setting. However, moments where Louis would glance aside and see Harry looking at him with a dazzling expression still stunned him, took him by surprise as he realized that he truly felt at ease. Harry's snug smiles told him he felt the same.

"That looks real good," Louis comments, watching Harry set their food onto the plates. The taller man responds with a smile and a peck to Louis' cheek.

The singer leads them to his dining room, which is an open space connected with the living room, a large table that's standing there. To Louis amusement, Harry ignores the table and makes a beeline to his expanse couch, placing the plates at the coffee table and pulling is closer to where they sit. Louis grins at Harry's successful attempt to make the scene less formal.

"Thank you for this, Harry." Louis says, as he's finishing the food. Harry put something to play on the TV but they aren't paying attention, lost within pleasant conversation and each other's presence.

Harry finishes his plate first, laying back on the couch with one hand coming up to caress Louis' back. He doesn't notice the shiver that the gesture causes on the smaller man. "The least I can do is feed you, right?" He says and presses a kiss to Louis' shoulder. Louis hums, there's a pause, and Harry's soft voice is echoing like a melody again. "We should make some bread tomorrow, what d'you think?"

Louis feels the urge to chuckle, only stopping himself from doing so when he realizes he's still eating. He swallows, then, "You make bread from scratch?"

Harry shrugs, curls bouncing. "It's easy when you're following a recipe."

"You're something else, Styles."

Louis finishes his plate and lays back comfortably, where's Harry's cuddle is awaiting for him. He grins and breathes calmly, eyes shifting between Harry's caressing hands on his arms and whatever is playing in the screen before them. Louis decides that Harry is way more interesting as he turns, inviting Harry to place his head on his shoulders. The singer doesn't hesitate and gracefully falls into Louis' snuggle.

Louis gives a tentative head scratch, feeling the softness of the man's curls. Harry hums happily with the gesture and leans in closer, as if he wants more of Louis, and no amount of closeness will ever be enough. Louis might believe in it too, as he drowns deep everything that is Harry. He ponders quietly, fingers massaging the other man's head while thoughts wander his own.

Harry lift his eyes, only enough for a quick glance, and then his pressing his face on the crook of Louis' neck. "I feel like you want to say something," He whispers there, voice muffled against the other man's skin.

"Am I that easy to read?" Louis mumbles, pauses and presses a kiss to Harry's hair. "I wanted to say that I don't want to bother you while I'm here, if you have work or anything during that time,"

The singer looks up again, fixating his green eyes on Louis' blue ones. Louis can almost read kindness and love written all over the man's face. "Ahn, well, I might have cleaned all my schedule for the next few days. And you don't bother, yeah? I'm really happy you're here."

Louis can only smile and he can tell that Harry notices the blush that appears on his cheeks, but he chooses not to say anything. It's something that the both of them also created effortlessly, a silent language; they don't need words to be said out loud most of the time, for what their expressions can easily communicate with one another. Louis is sure that somewhere, in some other universe or dimension, they've met before and it's what makes everything about their relationship to fall so freely into place.

He gathers all his breathing, picking it up from where he's suffocating with infatuation. "Thanks, again, for everything." He mutters, leaning down further to glue their foreheads together.

"Don't thank me," They close their eyes in unison, allowing only Harry's voice to guide them. "Kiss me."

So Louis does, and it feels like the first time. It always feels like the first time with Harry.

There's the anxious bloom in his gut, the small fireworks that affect the surface of his skin in form of shivers, and the need to be closer than ever before. Harry's warm hands come up to lace around his jaw and pull him closer, proving that he too, senses everything that Louis is feeling.

Their lips mold together perfectly, warm and soft as they crash and heat up the air around them. Louis can feel Harry's loose curls brushing against his forehead, before the singer sits up slightly to angle their kiss better. Louis pulls him closer, hands hesitant, but eager to touch Harry's waist and shoulders. The man seems content with the touch as he sighs pleasantly and deepens the kiss.

There's devotion in the way that Louis touches him, let his fingers graze experimentally over the bit of skin that gets exposed between the hem of Harry's shirt and the waistband of his sweatpants. Louis notices that his own skin is on fire, every nerve is on the edge when Harry touches him too, arms wrapped around his neck as he breaks their contact only to place his legs on the either side of Louis' hips.

Louis feels trapped, in the best sense of the word. He's looking up at Harry and can see his glazed green eyes filled with nothing but tenderness. Their bodies are flush together, and it's one particular brush of their hips against one another that has both of them silently taking sharp inhales in pleasure.

Louis realizes he's hard, and it's different from every erection he's ever had in his life. He realizes it's the hormonal, blooming desire he's been missing all his life, and although it feels good - feels incredible - and it has his heart pounding on his chest, he feels the boyish nervousness taking over his senses. He realizes - _feels_ \- that Harry is hard too.

It's a mixture that comes in waves and crashes down his mind; as Harry kiss down his neck and leave superficial love bites on his jaw. It's an antitheses that this time, brings him to uneasiness. His body is screaming for more, for Harry, but his mind is not used to the overwhelming feelings that the moment gives him.

He breathes, plants his hands on Harry's jaw and guides him to look at him. Then, Harry is kissing him again, and the anxiety abruptly increases in a spike.

"Wait, Haz-" He mumbles apologetically, face turning slightly.

The singer's sensitiveness doesn't fail, as he backs away and lifts himself from Louis' lap, sitting back down beside him. "Shit, I'm sorry," He can't contain the urge to touch Louis, hands coming up to mold around his jaw. "I shouldn't have moved this fast, yeah? Are you alright?" Harry's tone is more apologetic than his own from before, and Louis feels bad for placing those emotions in Harry's beautiful expressions.

"More than alright, yeah," He smiles reassuringly, hoping the frown will leave Harry's face. It does, but leaves behind a trace of concern. "I just, I've never, with a man," He struggles to find words, then realizes he doesn't have to.

"Oh," Harry glances at him with comprehension. Louis wasn't aware he needed that until then. "I'm sorry, I should've asked,"

Louis feels his breathing go steady as he tilts his head and pulls Harry closer for a warm, tender peck. Harry relaxes into the gesture, into Louis' touch. "It's okay, love."

The singer opens his eyes then, looking at the other man as if he was made of gold. "Call me that again?"

"Love?" He questions and watches Harry's eyes twinge with passion.

Harry sighs. "Yeah, it's nice." He smiles, and it's all that Louis needs to see. "M'sorry that I pushed you,"

"No, you didn't, I just got a bit nervous." He says with honesty. "We'll get to it, I promise." He adds, to which Harry replies;

"Even if we don't, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, or to feel like you own me this. I'm so, so glad that you're here, regardless."

Once again, Harry doesn't fail to give him the understanding look that has his bones wrapped in fondness.

Louis is locked inside an emerald paradise. The house is quiet around them, aside from the TV that still softly playing and the slow, melodious beats of their hearts. Harry looks sweet there, dimpled grin molded under palms, and he truly believes then that he has everything he wants - everything he needs - right there on his hands. "Kiss me again? Love?"

The pet-word brings warmness to his features, and Louis is convinced Harry is a entitled to be the sun. "Always."


	7. Chapter 7

Sometime around dawn, Louis is woken up by whispering repetitions of his own name. His eyes flutter open and he thinks he's dreaming when he sees the outline of Harry's hair and soft shadows casting upon his features. The scene is blurred and it takes him a few seconds to remember where he is, who he is with.

"Lou," The whispering is persistent; there's a gentle touch rubbing up and down his biceps, in intentions to awake him completely. "Lou, let's go to bed, yeah?"

The voice is distant, muffled by his own unconsciousness, and then he's fully aware when he sees the shining, verdant tone of Harry's orbs. Dimples pop on the man's cheek, watching Louis come to his senses.

"What?" Louis mumbles, his accent distorting the word.

He hears a low chuckle, then the answer, "We fell asleep."

The TV is still on and Louis realizes it's the only source of light in the room, aside from Harry's tired grin. His eyelids are leaden and he almost succumbs to the urge to drift off into sleep again. "Hm," He can only hum in response as Harry's warm lips are brushing the side of his head.

A peck is planted there, then, "Let's go to bed, it's cold in here."

It really is. Louis can feel goosebumps rising from under his clothing, clearly not appropriate for the gelid atmosphere from late hours into the night. "Okay," He groans, but makes no moves with the intention to stand up and follow Harry's suggestion.

Soon after, there's a limb that tucks under his knees and around his back; he's being lifted. Harry's arms feel steady as he doesn't fight the gesture, doesn't try to get away from the intimate support; he feels safe and incredibly exhausted.

He loses sense of time until he's laying on a soft surface, soon turning warm underneath his body. He hears movement around him, and a large blanket falls on top of him to protect his structure from shivering again. He hums happily and manages to open his eyes again, fully this time, to see and feel Harry sliding under the covers beside him. He realizes he's on Harry's bed, in his master bedroom.

He turns his body to face the other man, his limbs feeling weightless under the warmth of the covers and above the comfortable mattress.

Harry scoots closer and it's when Louis smiles for the first time since he had woken up. There's a giggle beside him that fade into words; "You're adorable."

Louis is almost certain that he's dreaming.

He feels Harry's feet touching his shin, cold little toes finding warmth within Louis' skin. "Want you close," Louis whispers, not being able to control his drowsy state of mind.

Harry is quick and gentle to comply, approaching with a fatigued grin of his own. Louis lifts one arm up, an invitation that Harry takes without hesitation. The singer tucks himself inside Louis' cuddle, curls brushing against the other man's face, but it feels like clouds. Louis feels like he's floating, flying through a warm summer breeze, taking in the scents of strawberry and vanilla, and it's all so entirely _Harry_ that he doesn't feel himself falling asleep again.

Sleeping with Harry is restful. It's filled with peace, Louis learns.

He had a feeling that Harry was a thrasher in his sleep, limbs moving and pulling on the covers, reflecting the sporadic aspects of his public life. However, he's tranquil, body curled up into Louis' touch, blankets covering his body up to his cheeks.

Louis awakes first when the sun bleeds into the bedroom, warm and inviting. His first vision is Harry's dormant visage, soft exhales pushing past his lips and eyelashes decorating his features; he looks like an angel, in Louis' mind. Everything is silent apart from birds that chip outside, announcing early morning, along with their combined breathing. Louis shifts out of bed carefully, only to reach the blinds and shut them, letting darkness settle inside the place; he's sure it would be a sin to let the brightness wake Harry.

But, forest colored eyes flutter open when Louis gets back under the covers, even as careful as he does it. He learns Harry is a light-sleeper.

Harry's hands are reaching out, arms empty, lips pursued as he frowns and mutters, "Stay,"

Louis' intent wasn't to leave, but he's sure that he wouldn't be able to even if he wanted to. "I'm here," He reassures and then Harry is back in his arms.

Sleep feels contagious under Harry's warmth as he drifts away once again, letting an angel's soft snores guide him.

Harry's yard looks like a place that fairies would visit.

There's bushes scattered, filled with flowers, small plants in pots and Louis is sure he can spot a few fruit trees in the very back, behind the pool fence.

"How does writing music work?" Louis quizzes amid the soft, picked chords of Harry's acoustic guitar. The breeze is warm as it carries the sound away.

Harry shifts in the spot he's seated, in the grass, ignoring all the yard furniture that beautifully decorates the space. Louis finds himself in the same position, a plate on top of his crossed legs; Harry's bread recipe stole his heart, if Harry himself hadn't already.

"As in lyrics, you mean?" Harry responds with a question, and Louis nods. He just wants to hear Harry's voice, sweet and smooth. "Depends. Sometimes I'll think of a concept, sit with song-writers and discuss it until some verses come out. Other times, it just comes to mind. It's like, a feeling,"

Louis quietly tastes the freshly-baked good, convinced that the singer's voice is more melodious than the sound of the instrument in his hands.

"Have you ever written a song and then didn't like how it turned out?"

"Yeah, a few times."

There's a sigh, a pause, and he continues, picking on metal strings with ease.

"I think I'm getting used to knowing, or feeling, what is going to turn out in a way that I like and what isn't. Mostly, when I feel like I'm working on something that won't make me proud in the end, I just abandon it."

The sun feels recharging on their skin. Louis can smell the sunscreen that the other man has applied, the scent going into the list of ordinary things that under Harry's influence, it's an instant reason to be adored by Louis. The list is already long in his mind. He's sure that Harry could make the whole world seem perfect, and Louis would fall for it.

"Your work involves more feelings than I imagined." Louis swallows the last piece of bread in his plate and sets it aside on the soft grass, bringing his knees closer.

Harry chuckles. "It definitely does. At least, the creative part of it does."

A butterfly flies close by, stopping by one of the flowers that grows wildly in Harry's property. They both watch as the creature's wings flutter delicately, and them erratically as it flies out of sight, completing its ordinary function in the more extraordinary way. Harry is still looking towards his flowers and playing his guitar softly when Louis glances towards the man. The singer's humming, almost shyly, curls are dancing as he bobs his head slightly. Louis can't stop himself from grinning even if he tried.

"You're magical."

Harry looks aside and he can almost see adoration in his moss-colored eyes. A butterfly effect.

"Not as much as you." The singer responds, tone softer than the grass beneath them. He lifts up from where his sitting while Louis watches and sets the guitar on the ground, delicately, before his legs carry him to a flowery bush. He bends down, picks something, and comes back to bend one knee before Louis.

"Here," Harry has a flower in his hands, offering it to the man. Bright yellow petals surround the deep-brown center, against the medium-sized, dark green stalk. Louis is hesitant to take it, almost as if it's too precious to be held by him. "A sunflower, for a sunflower."

Louis laughs and it's coated in tenderness. "Very romantic, Styles."

"I think it's realistic." Harry announces. Louis glances at the colorful plant inside his hands, fascinated with the tones and the curves of such a small part of nature. Louis doesn't realize he's smiling hugely until; "I really like your smile. I'm glad I get to see it now."

The smaller man pursues him lips in an attempt to contain his smile. He fails and feels blood rushing through the top of his cheeks. He tries to convince himself is the sun's fault and not Harry's, although he's convinced they are the same.

"You're adorable when you blush." The singer adds with a chuckle and sits across from him, crossed legs too and knees touching.

"Shut up," He mutters timidly.

He swears he can still hear the guitar playing softly, despite it being long forgotten in the grass. "You're the one who started by calling me magical." Harry points.

"Because you are." Louis retorts in loving banter.

Harry smiles and it's more beautiful than the flower in his hands. "Then kiss me, you fool."

He leans in and kisses the man, convinced that if he's a sunflower, then Harry is the butterfly. It's a summery peck, warm lips and a breeze runs between their frames. When they pull away, the singer is flushed and his gaze is lost on Louis' face, exploring the edges of his cheekbones and admiring his thin, parted lips. Louis feels pressure under Harry's stare, but it's intoxicating, somehow.

"Up for a swim?" Harry offers.

Louis places the flower on top of the guitar and stands up, the lawn prickling underneath his feet. A shirt gets tossed on the ground, _Harry's_ shirt. Louis can swear all his oxygen has been stolen out of him when he gazes his exposed torso. The smaller man fights the urge to run his palms through the singer's tattooed, pale skin, bright and smooth against the burning sun.

Louis ignores the twinge of insecurity that hits him when he peels his own shirt off. Harry's toned, has curves and muscles in all the right places, and Louis can't help but feel unfit compared to the other man.

A hand raises to caress Louis' collarbones. Harry's pale fingers are tracing the tattoo he has there, a phrase inked in cursive letters above his chest. Unlike himself, Harry didn't fight the urge to touch him. Louis almost says something, but the singer's sudden admiring gaze hold him still and silent under his fingertips.

He feels the sun bathing his naked upper body as Harry leans in dangerously slow and presses a kiss to his neck, right under his jaw. Louis sighs and grips Harry's forearm, not sure if he wants the man to stop the teasing or to keep going until he's consumed Louis alive entirely. Harry's lips graze the shell of his ear, breathing slow, and he whispers; "Catch me."

Harry then runs towards the large pool, glancing back towards Louis before doing a flip in the air and landing on the water with a splash. Louis laughs loudly, although his heartbeat is still erratic from the sensual touches. Soon he's mimicking Harry's movements, jumping from the edge of the pool and finding himself submerged under cold water that embraces his structure until he's on the surface again, breathing and catching the sight of Harry's wet curls dripping down his soft cheekbones.

"That was like a cannonball, Lou!" Harry shouts loudly as if Louis is several feet away. "You should do a flip, next time."

"I'm not as athletic as yourself," Louis swims closer, the water is dense as he moves under it, grasping Harry's arms and lifting them. Harry understands his intentions quickly and snakes his arms around the other man's shoulders, holding on as if he would drown if he didn't. "Caught you." Louis says, voice bouncing off the small waves on the liquid between them.

"Too bad." The singer smiles. Sun rays look pitiful before the sight of Harry.

Louis' mind drifts, and maybe its the effect of the wavering, oscillating atmosphere around them. He pulls Harry closer, almost desperately.

He doesn't want the moment to disappear.

Louis thinks about his life during the brief minutes of silence; he thinks of his family, his hometown, his apartment that stands empty in the heart of Manchester. He thinks of Niall, his co-workers and friends, he thinks of Eleanor. Louis always hated that his brain worked that way, constant reminders washing over him like the chlorinated liquid that surrounds him at that moment. He's glad they're not negative thoughts, but any thought that it's deviated from Harry and his wonderful world feels distant. The thoughts make him almost feel lonely.

He doesn't want to let go.

Louis focus on the feeling of Harry's slippery fingers caressing his glistening skin, down his back and clutching onto Louis' torso.

Harry doesn't want to let go either.

"Kiss me under the water." Harry says, voice wavy in harmony with the fluctuating environment.

Louis doesn't word out a reply. He pulls his face away from where it was resting on Harry's shoulder, locks gazes with the singer as he feels like his icy blue orbs may dissipate into the azure tones of the pool. They communicate silently, inhale deeply and go under, together.

Louis finds out it's easy to sink, to let the dense water drag him down. He feels like an anchor. Harry's lips are the ropes that catch him. The vision is blurry underneath the surface, but Louis can see locks of dark curls dancing, moving like a jellyfish.

Louis feels like he's floating then, as they emerge to the surface and breath in humid, heated air. Harry is smiling, clinging onto Louis as he feels youthful. He resists the urge to say something, to break the silence and maybe blurt out that he's falling deep and fast, he's _sinking,_ for Harry. But he knows he doesn't need to say it out loud.

Harry laces their fingers together, still under water, and pulls him closer. "Where were you all my life?" Harry rips the silence with words soaked in passion.

Maybe Louis was underneath Manchester's skyline, or hidden in between the flower bushes, or drowning somewhere in the waves of his own mind.

He's floating now, above a calm yet very alive, peaceful sea that is Harry Styles.


	8. Chapter 8

"Will you want to see me again after you go back?"

Harry's voice is quiet, barely listenable, muffled by the blankets around their bodies. Louis raises his head from where it was tucked, on the crook of Harry's neck, to fixate his vision on the singer's face.

There's a hint of a frown there, and Louis decides he hates any negative feeling stamped on Harry's expressions. "Of course, Hazza," He laces his hand on the other man's jaw, running his thumb in circles. Harry closes his eyes, cherishing the touch like it's the last. "What makes you think I won't want to see you again?" Louis adds, finding himself frowning too.

Harry shrugs, although the answer is tickling his lips. "It's just, you know how my life is," He pauses. Louis wants to grin at the characteristic slow speech. "You've been speaking to me for weeks and I think you got a good grasp of how my routine is and how much I travel around," He sighs, as if recognizing how he's rambling. Louis, on the other hand, finds it incredibly endearing. He continues, "Anyway, I want to say that I understand if you decide that you don't want to be a part of that, or if you get bored because I won't be able to give you proper attention all the time and I already have to go back to work in a couple days and-"

Even if Harry's voice is nothing but lovely to Louis, he interrupts his speech with a quick peck. The words that were echoing between the sheets were painful to hear, and the tone was coated in heartache that Louis never wants to listen again coming from Harry.

He pulls away and softens his voice as much as he can, "Breathe, love,"

Harry inhales then.

"Haz, I told you before, it does make me a bit nervous, but," He sees comprehension laced with hope in Harry's expression, dark under the dimmed light of his bedroom. He proceeds, "Since you've entered my life, I've been the happiest person alive." Louis says it with such sincerity that it even himself is stunned. "I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose _this._ "

"I feel the same, Lou." Harry's grinning, and Louis achingly spots the small tears that threaten to form on the singer's eyes. Louis understands it then; Harry doesn't have to tell him because he can read it. All the heartbreaks and deceptions that Harry probably went through, during all these years of fame. He can detect hints of past lovers who twisted his soul, and what's worst is that he can also identify _guilt._

Louis kisses the top of his nose and ignores his own prickling tears. He tucks a curl behind Harry's ear, "You've changed my life without even trying."

Harry rolls his eyes playfully. "What can I say? I'm special."

"You really are." Louis confirms, loving the way the man is grinning. "My Hazza." He adds and he swears he feels Harry's melting inside his cuddle.

"I really like the sound of that." He kisses Louis' collarbone. "And you're my Lou?"

"I am. And you were right before, we are really disgusting." They chuckle tiredly and in unison. It's true, but neither of them would have it in any other way.

It's Louis that makes the first move, in the chill afternoon of the next day.

They're under the covers, curled up into each other on Harry's couch, an empty bowl that sits in the coffee table show the existence of popcorn once before. A third romantic-comedy - Harry's choice, of course - is playing on the large TV, and their fingers are intertwined together. The house echoes their voices, soft words and eventual laughter that rips the quietness around them.

It's then that Louis looks aside and spots Harry's beautiful sight, distracted in the movie. He leans in to attach his lips on the other man's neck, in a spot right under the junction of his jaw and his ear.

"Oh," Harry mumbles amused, a twinge of surprise in his tone. "You're making me shiver." He informs, referring to Louis' ministrations.

Louis feels his chest tighten, waves of heat crashing down his ribs. "Can I feel it?" He asks. "Can I touch you?" He adds with intent.

Harry nods, but completes with a breathy, expectant, "Please,"

Shy fingers untangled themselves from Harry's grip, rising up to barely graze the surface of his tattooed forearms, biceps and shoulders. Louis feels the goosebumps along the way and hum in content, vibrations transmitted to Harry's neck instantly. Louis traces Harry's collarbones, down to his chest, covered by the fabric of his shirt.

"Lou," Harry quietly murmurs, tone so close to the edge of a moan.

To that sound, Louis shivers too. He finishes planting all the kisses he can on Harry's jaw and pulls away, catching the sight of the singer's dazed expression. He wants to drown in the scene before him, hands coming up to brush his curls away from his face. "You're so beautiful, Haz." Louis praises and Harry's eyes flutter closed.

"Can I touch you too?" Harry asks, sincerity lacing his words. Louis ponders for a second, and realizes he's not as nervous as before. His heart and mind are aligned this time, tunnel vision that has only Harry and all his magic on the other end.

Louis presses a kiss on Harry's lips and then he's answering, "Yes,"

Long fingers are gentle to run a steady path up Louis' waist, exploring the man's curves above his clothes. Louis is sure that Harry has fire beneath his fingertips, as his skin aches and screams under Harry's graze.

Large hands are pulling Louis close, closer, until he's straddling Harry's lap. Their hips are unconsciously drawing little circles on one another, but they don't pay too much attention to their growing erections then; they're too focused on touching, stealing glances at each other's eyes, watching as they both collide and crash against the craving nerves on the top of their skin.

They kiss then, and Louis catches, gently, Harry's plump bottom lip between his teeth. Harry's brows furrow, face twisting further into sheer pleasure, and Louis tastes the singer's soft moans; it tastes like honey. Louis pulls away, back curved towards Harry, and their crotches brush together in a fiery motion.

"Oh, Haz," Louis moans, allowing his voice to manifest his pleasure for the first time. He's sure that Harry can watch the sound dripping down Louis' lips, because he leans in closer and catches his lips in a hungry kiss.

Harry looks up at the smaller man, hands tight in the flesh of his curvy waist. "Will you tell me if you want to stop?" He says, and although the words are sweet, his tone is low, coated in searing desire.

"I will," Louis whispers.

He's painfully hard, and by the throbbing sensation underneath from where he's sitting, Harry is too.

Louis can't quite grasp the reality around him; can't seem to understand how could he miss this all his life, and why it feels so good.

And they're not even focusing on their erections, until then.

"Can I?" Harry asks and Louis glances down to see the singer's hand hovering above him crotch. There's a tattoo there, a cross, that look darker under the dimmed light of the living room.

Louis nods desperately, and then he's moaning out loud.

"Haz, Harry, oh," He mutters and he doesn't care if he's being repetitive because it feels _too good._ Harry's hand is gentle yet firm, massaging his achingly erect member still restrained by his boxers and sweatpants. He's sure there's tears prickling the corners of his eyes, and he probably looks beyond dazed, but he can only succumb to the blissful sparks born from Harry's touch.

The singer is looking up, watching the man's reactions with a soft smirk that grows devilish dangerously fast. "So pretty, Louis, look at me," He requests, voice soaked in fervor.

Louis glances down and meets hungry eyes, pupils blown and only a rim of the green he's grown to adore entirely. He decides that he is gone for Harry.

As Harry continues to touch his clothed erection, his smaller hand move between them to do the same to the singer, hearing a hiss erupt from Harry's lips when he presses his palm against his hard-on. "M-more, need more," Louis stutters and blinks, eyes glossy.

Desperation is a good look on Louis.

Harry smiles, dimples popping on his cheeks, fingers moving to grip the edge of his pants' waistband. He locks eyes with Louis, silently asking for permission, which Louis grants with a quick nod and a trembling peck to his forehead.

Louis lifts his hips slightly and Harry is pulling his sweats down, tucking the edge just under the swell of his ass. Harry lifts his own hips then, and Louis does the same to his, struggling to pull down the layers of fabric. His hands catch on the edge of his shirt and then it's gone. Their shirts are peeled away from their bodies in a rush, as if they're suffocating under the fabric. Tattoos come in display and it makes Louis' mouth water.

Louis then realizes that their hard members are exposed, standing between their frames and throbbing with enough fervor to start a fire. Harry's cock is long and thick and somehow _pretty._ Louis is certain that there's nothing about the man that isn't perfect.

"Are you alright?" Harry questions softly when he spots Louis glancing down at their naked erections for a bit longer.

Louis shoots him a glance that screams desire and nods. "Yes, please, don't stop," He mutters desperately, sighing.

The singer smiles as Louis can only breathe erratically through his parted lips. "So eager, Lou,"

Harry's large hand snakes around both of their cocks at the same time, and there's an explosion inside Louis' chest that he can't explain nor he wants to. He wants to _feel._ There's pre-cum glistening the head of their members, and it drips down at the pressure from Harry's ministrations and it makes the slide between them a bit easier.

"Fuck, yes," Harry curses and Louis' abdomen tightens with the sound and the feeling.

It's dry and it's rough but it feels so _good_ that Louis thinks he may cry.

Harry continues to stroke up and down, slowly and then picking up speed as their moans grow louder, and then Louis _whimpers._ The sound is high in his throat and it's not loud, but it startles Louis as he's never heard himself do that noise before. One of his palms come up to cover his own mouth in an attempt to stop the sounds from coming out, but Harry's non-busy hand is quick to interrupt the gesture.

Louis slits his vision open. Harry's lips are pink and his eyes are glassy, dazed, hypnotizing. Louis decides that he wants to see that for the rest of his life. "Don't, I want to hear you, such pretty noises Lou," Harry protests, voice low and there's nothing but lust and love present in his tone.

Louis doesn't stop himself then, and he arches into the intimate touch, and feels a strong wave of heat beginning to curl up on the bottom of his stomach. Harry's stroking pick up, and Louis whimpers again. "Oh my God, Haz, don't stop, don't stop," The house swallows the echos instantly. Louis is discovering that he's repetitive when he's desperate, and that his urge to come is as strong as his will to never let go of the man under him.

Harry doesn't sound far behind; his jaw is slack with pleasure and his muscles are tightening, along with his beautifully carved features soaking in eagerness. "Never Lou, you're here now, with me," He says under his fastening breath. "Want you so much, want to see you like this everyday, fuck,"

Louis is also discovering that Harry likes to talk in those situations, and he doesn't mind the slightest; Harry's voice feels like another factor that could push him over the edge.

He realizes that, in fact, it is, and it's pushing him hard and fast. Moans are dripping off his lips, then, "Haz, fuck, I'm close,"

"Me too," He responds and his stroking becomes erratic.

Louis feels his stomach drop, his wavering chest hollows and the heat goes so low down his hips that it has him tumbling over the edge and spilling out ropes of semen. His eyes shut close and his head is thrown back, arching towards Harry.

The singer watches Louis and finds it's easy to lose it before the sight.

"Louis," He whispers, his throat aching for air and then he's coming too.

Their hips are twitching, aftershocks of their recent highs, as Louis is quick to wipe the cum that paints their chests, stomachs and also Harry's hand, using his t-shirt and then tossing it behind the couch in a ball. Harry is panting, eyes closed, when Louis tucks himself, then Harry back into their respective pants, careful with the sensitivity that coats their skin.

"Lou," Harry echos. The smaller man draws his tights closer where they rest above Harry's. He leans down and lets their bodies mold into one another, recovering from their mutually explosive orgasms.

He thinks that Harry has drifted off to sleep until the hears the rough, low voice muttering a few minutes later. "Louis? Hey, look at me,"

Louis complies and sees that Harry is looking for any signs of regret or discomfort in his face. He knows that Harry won't find it. "Hi, love," Louis says, voice sweet. Harry smiles and brushes a hand through his chestnut-colored, messy fringe. The house is quiet then, and it's all they need.

The next day starts with a melancholic feeling in Louis' gut.

He's not used to waking up next to someone, limbs other than his own spread on the bed and warm skin touching his own. Sensations that he isn't accustomed with, and didn't know that he craved it up until he had it. Harry was beautiful in the mornings, voice rough and eyes puffy from sleep. It took a breath out of Louis every time, like it was the first time.

However, he can't help the uneasiness in his stomach, twisting with the information that he had to leave that day.

Breakfast was quieter, but still filled with chuckles and amusing jokes - Harry had a surprising list of jokes in his mind - that Louis was certain he would miss terribly. Later after lunch, Louis is packing his clothes back into his suitcase when he feels arms wrapping around him from behind. He blinks and enjoys the embracing, already filled with longing towards the other man.

Harry breathes on his neck, lips pursued in emotions he can't word out. Louis senses it, Harry doesn't need to say it, but he does it anyways, "I'll miss you, a lot." Louis responds with a long kiss that feels like the only thing that's stopping him from letting his emotions take over.

Louis leaves London's vice grip with a promise to see Harry again. However, he doesn't know when. Manchester welcomes him with warmth, contrasting with the cold emptiness of his own apartment. Before unpacking, he calls Harry to announce he's home. It doesn't feel right. Harry's not there, so it's not his home.

They hold a conversation through the evening, as Harry is the one that was packing a few suitcases for his next trip. He'd be on a plane by the next day already, following through with his insanely busy routine. Louis insists that they go to sleep earlier then, and he stays on the phone until Harry's softly snoring on the other end of the line. He doesn't hung up for a few minutes, listening to the sounds like it's a melody. He believes it truly is. Everything about Harry is art, certainly.

Louis then lies down on his bed, tangling himself in his sheets, and although he's immensely tired, he can't sleep.

It aches to realize he would need to grow used to waking up alone, again.


	9. Chapter 9

Of course, Niall wouldn't believe it at first. Louis was aware of the situation and the place he had put himself in, as he watches Niall bounce around in his apartment and get comfortable while Louis can't contain his own nervous shivers that creep up his spine every other minute. His back aches a bit from a bad sleeping position when he sits in his couch and winces slightly. Louis' cold beer creates a ring of gelid water on his coffee table when he raises the can and bring it to his lips.

"How's the shop without me?" Louis questions, his voice interrupting the sounds of his TV.

Niall licks the alcoholic foam on his lips and grins humorously, "So much better,"

The shorter man laughs, slapping his friend's shoulder, "Oi!"

"I'm messing with ya, s'quite boring, to be honest," Niall states.

Louis appreciates the reply and hums, turning back to the screen. They're watching a golf related channel that Louis remembers undersigning just for occasions like these, where he needed an excuse to see his closest friend who was weirdly obsessed with the said sport. Louis found it was boring, but Niall's random comments, excited shouts or disappointing groans delightedly filled the uncomfortable silence that often took over his place.

His voice echos again, the Irish accent coated in cold, cheap beer; "Tell me, how's the vacation so far?"

Louis ponders and takes a gulp of his brew. "Eventful,"

There's a pause. "Are you going to elaborate on that, Tommo?"

"Yeah, ahn," The man hesitates, knowing that if he gave in to his own senses, he'd come with the conclusion that he's too nervous to speak. So instead of reasoning within himself, he just does it; "I'm seeing someone."

"What?" Niall expressed, his tone high with curious enthusiasm. Louis' chilled lips tug into a grin, either apprehensive or excited. "Who's the unlucky bastard?" He questions quickly, his whole body now turned towards Louis, the golf match dissipating from his attention.

Louis breathes. "That's the thing, Niall,"

"Oh, something's serious," The Irish mutters. Louis finds concern in his friend's blue eyes and it makes him feel even more agitated. He wishes he could find the same confidence and assurance he had when he came out to him. However, he found out it was harder when someone else's feelings were involved while the uncertainty of their relationship was predominant.

"No! Not serious at all," He assures and watches the uptight expression fade away from his friend's features, thankfully. "It's just, I'm not sure if you'll believe it,"

"Try me," Niall shrugs, despite his eyes screaming in interest.

"I'm nervous." Louis admits. His eyes wander looking for something to say, gaze traveling through the table top, the couch and the bubbles in the beer that's turning warm under his fingertips. He doesn't find the answer anywhere.

"You're making me nervous with all that suspense, c'mon, who's is he?" His friend insists.

He sighs. "It's, ahn, H-Harry,"

"Don't think I know him," Niall's brows furrow, "Does he work with us and I didn't notice?"

"No lad, it's," Louis takes a soft inhale. "Harry Styles."

The name is cotton candy on his tongue, melting in his taste buds like sugar. Louis himself almost doesn't believe his own words.

"What?" Niall says, wide-eyed. He glares at Louis as if he's waiting for him to laugh and reveal that it is, in fact, a joke. Then, he bursts out a loud chuckle. "Alright, that was a good prank Tommo, you got my reaction there, where's the camera?"

"There's no cameras, Niall," Louis confesses. "We've been talking since the meet and greet, his manager came up to me and gave me his number,"

"Wait, wait," Niall's limbs twitch, manifesting his disbelief. "You're telling me you're dating Harry Styles? _The_ Harry Styles?"

Louis observes how his friend's tone show no faith in the revelation, but he responds; "Ahn, not dating officially, but we're almost there, I hope," He smiles to himself at the last part of his words. Something in his chest wavered and he recognized it; longing. He missed Harry like hell, already.

Niall claps, calling Louis attention to his following words, still coated in incredulity. "So, where's the evidence?"

Louis reaches his phone and can't stop himself from founding over the pictures he took in London. During his trip back to Manchester, he spent the boring hours creating a special folder in his phone, containing the dozens of photos he had taken during his time with Harry. There was a few of the singer in the kitchen, hands busy with the stove, some of them cuddling in the living room, Harry's head tucked under his chin as he smiled. There was even one of himself, fast asleep by Harry's side on his master bedroom, his fringe is all over the place against the pillow. He remembers finding it on his camera roll later that morning and humorously confronting the other man about it. He also remembers that Harry didn't gave him an answer, but kissed him instead.

"Louis," Niall whispers, his fingers working fast on Louis' phone, going over the images. Louis doesn't hear his friend's words, but focus on the memories that flicker through small screen. "I can't believe you didn't tell me before!" Niall shouts. The golf match in the TV ends and Louis thinks it might have been the first time that Niall missed it.

He glances at his friend, whose jaw is hanging open slightly. "I didn't want to make a big fuss out of it! We were just talking then-"

"This is insane!" Niall interrupts, and then he's smiling and almost giggling. There's something in his behavior that is almost child-like; Louis finds comfort and amusement in his friend's mannerisms.

The Irish man locks the phone, after the list of photos end. He glares at Louis and there's nothing in his expression but positive and surprised emotions. Louis thinks that later on, Niall might be mad about it, maybe he'd feel upset that he didn't know before. Louis shakes the feeling away and concentrates on finishing the rest of his flat beer. "Does that make me the best man at your wedding?" Niall finally says, after moments of thinking.

Louis can't help but laugh. "Oi! Don't get too excited now." He warns playfully, "You're the first one I'm telling."

"I feel honored." Niall expresses, and although the words are meant to come out as humorous and ironic, Louis can identify the hinges of honesty and happiness that coats his tone. "What about your family?"

A faint fireball erupts in his stomach. He wasn't giving his family much thought on the matter. They aren't even aware that he's gay. "I-I haven't talked to them in a while,"

Niall nods understandably, not pushing the subject, and continues talking about their relationship, asking too many questions. It substitutes the bubbling anxiety that almost swelled up Louis chest, much to his delight. Niall leaves by the end of the afternoon, off to take care of his own relationship, and Louis finds himself lonely again.

It's almost midnight when Louis gets a text from Harry, informing him he's landed. A simple photo follows, the inside of an airport. He wonders what Harry might look like then, eyes tired and puffy from recent sleep - it always amused him how Harry could fall asleep anywhere - and wrinkled t-shirts that maybe he had worn himself back in London. Half an hour later and there's another text, telling him he's at a hotel.

Louis is in bed when he calls Harry, tangled in thick covers that could almost make him forget he's lonely.

 _"If it isn't my Lou,"_ Harry mutters when he picks up, and Louis is certain that he's tired just from the tone of his voice.

"Hey, love. Where are you?"

 _"Somewhere in Italy."_ He sighs. Louis closes his eyes, despite being surrounded by the darkness in his room, and sighs too. _"Everything in here reminds me of you."_

Louis smiles and it's wonderful to feel his chest waver away by the sensations that Harry's simple words can bring. He's sure that his heart is somewhere out the window and into the nightly breeze of Manchester. "Oh yeah? How come?"

 _"I don't know, it's just a romantic place, I guess. One day I'll bring you here."_ Harry stated, words firm in assurance that feels soft and airy for Louis.

He's beaming underneath the gloom of his quiet apartment, his voice breaking the lonesome silence. "Is that a promise?"

There's a pause that Louis knows he would fill by looking into a green paradise if they were together. He never cared much about Italy until then. _"Now it is."_

Louis spends the rest of his vacation cleaning his apartment and taking long walks without a destination. Niall comes over on his days off as usual; they drink, talk, laugh, and Louis waits anxiously for the nights to arrive and bring Harry's calls with it. He sees pictures of Harry in Italy, paparazzi shots and interviews on a number of channels that he won't mind paying for at the end of the month.

He texts Harry after every live interview that he watches, wanting to be present. He doesn't know how Harry blushes when he reads the messages, how the singer's heart flutters when he realizes that Louis is being immensely supportive despite the distance, and it makes him walk into every stunt a bit more confidently and less afraid of the world of fame that surrounds him. Louis will be there at the end and that kept his daily worries locked away securely.

Louis notices that Harry is putting effort into being present too, when he begins to receive things delivered at his door. He didn't know that such thing as "flower delivery" existed until the doorman at his complex called him every other couple of days to fetch potted plants and random bouquets of sunflowers. He'd take pictures of every delivery and send it to Harry, followed always by a voice note that thanked him at least a dozen times for the simple, yet beautiful gesture.

Oddly enough, his apartment began to feel less lonely and empty, now that every corner and space by the windows had plants of diverse species filling in, not to mention the sunflowers standing in water inside a glass jar on his balcony.

He found himself surrounded with things that were so _Harry_ that he barely found enough time to feel alone.

Soon, his vacation is over and Louis starts working again, falling into the same routine that holds the familiarity that he missed. He's glad to see his co-workers again, to have the laugh-filled lunch break and grab a few smokes with lads that he doesn't care too much to catch-up outside of work.

It's somewhere between the fourth week since coming back from London when Louis gets a call from Harry during a totally unusual time.

He's behind the counters, preparing orders at the cafe when his phone buzzes beneath his apron. He doesn't pick up at first, and waits for a second try that comes soon after the first ends. He finishes the drink ordered and rushes to the back, glad that the coffee shop isn't too crowded in that particular afternoon.

He doesn't even read the contact flashing on his screen when he picks up.

"Hello?"

 _"Hey! Lou!"_ Harry says, rather enthusiastic. Louis feels relief washing over him and almost chuckles at how easily he panicked at the sign of something so basic out of the routine.

He remembers to breathe then and responds, "Hi love, is everything alright?" He asks, just to make sure.

The reply comes laced in shameless excitement that he finds incredibly endearing coming from Harry. _"Yes, yeah, sorry for calling during your shift, I just had to-"_

There's a pause and Louis can recognize the self-interruption that Harry often does when he feels like he's about to start rambling. He hears a soft chuckle, then words that offered him a fair dose of adrenaline. It's safe to say that he couldn't keep his cool for the rest of his shift.

_"Guess who's in Manchester?"_


	10. Chapter 10

It was always feels like the first time.

For Louis, it felt familiar since the very first embrace. Harry's arms are secure around his frame, tightly pressing the smaller man into his hug. Louis melts into the cuddle, his toes bringing him up to reach the taller man. "I missed you so, so much." Harry is the first one to mumble, voice soft amid the deafening silence inside the long hotel's hallway.

If it wasn't for the traffic on his way, Louis would probably have gotten a dozen speeding tickets from the moment that he got the address of the hotel Harry was checked in. It was a nice hotel, large, luxurious and far from the domestic feel of Harry's house. He wondered if it ever bothered the singer to feel familiarity spill away so easily and quickly.

"I missed you more," Louis whispers, almost scared that his voice would break the high walls around them. He meant the words, though, breathing in the delicate scent of lime and strawberry, mixed with his own vanilla cologne.

Harry chuckles slightly, still holding him. "I really doubt that."

Louis' fingers caress Harry's curls that had grown out since the last time they've been together. He explores the comfort there and also finds the stability to hold onto while they kiss, a gesture full of longing and adoration that had both of them feeling intoxicated by it.

Harry draws back from the embrace only to pull Louis into his room - the very last one on the highest level, appealing to Harry's privacy - and closing the door behind his back. Harry pushes Louis gently back against the now locked door, bending down to kiss him again, this time with more fervor and passion. Louis is certain that Harry's lips are coated in melted sugar as it feels sweet, moving against his own.

"I couldn't wait to see you again, have you close, feel you," Harry mumbles between pecks, drawing small groans and smiles out of Louis, who feels overwhelmed with all the good things that he's been missing.

Louis doesn't hesitate to grab the other man's hips, slim and firm under his touch, and pull Harry incredibly close. He hooks his fingers on his belt straps and is almost afraid that the singer is going to disappear if he let go. Harry seems to notice the subconscious desperation on Louis' actions and molds his large hands on the smaller man's jaw to bring his gaze up, eyes meeting in a encounter that almost sparks electricity.

Louis breathes and Harry whispers so that no other being in the universe can hear, except for Louis, "I'm here,"

"You are," Louis responds in a haze. "Thank _God_ for that." He says, strong accent lacing his words and then Harry's smiling. Dimples make an appearance and that's when he realizes that he would always need the man in front of him.

"Wanted to make a little surprise."

Louis chuckles. The large room behind them echos the sounds. "You did. I wasn't expecting that, at all. I'm happy, Haz,"

"Me too."

Louis doesn't know for how long they stayed there, talking quietly, pressed on one another almost in secrecy, as if the world around them could hear everything. Harry felt like they might be. When they pull away, Louis feels a bit cold while Harry shows him around the room that feels more like an apartment; there's a massive bed and TV, a luxurious open space to a living area and a bathroom that Louis is positive that is bigger than his own bedroom.

The balcony is expansive, not as private but still holds a beautiful view. When Louis steps outside to check the surroundings of the tall building, Harry stays back.

"I can't go out there," He says, and although he's chuckling, Louis can almost recognize a hint of disappointment.

Louis looks behind him, pressing his back against the glass and marble railing. "Scared of heights or paps?" He requests, watching Harry's tall figure lean on the door far from public view.

The singer shrugs with a smile. "Probably both,"

Louis feels the wind pushing his hair in all directions and wash away the scents of coffee and freshly baked goods that probably lingered his clothing. The sky bathes in warm colors as the sun threatens to disappear on the irregular horizon of Manchester. Harry is glaring, then he's pacing towards Louis, green eyes turning bright as he approached fearlessly.

Louis doesn't want to ask why he's coming into view, although most of his fans don't even know he's in the city, yet. He doesn't want to ask where the hesitance went and ignores the list of "what if's" that fill his own head.

Harry gives him an answer before he has time to ask anything; "I just can't stay away from you." Harry has his hands flat on the railing and on either side of Louis' body when he leans down and kisses him lovingly. Louis' heart feels like the clouds above them and he can swear that he can see stars already reflecting on Harry's face.

"Stay with me," Louis mumbles between the heated breeze brushing past their lips.

"I am with you."

He smiles. "In my apartment, come with me, you won't have to worry about paps or anything,"

The marble is warm beneath the skin of Louis' back. _I am with you._ It echos a bit in his head before Harry's reply come easy.

Dimples are predominant under the orange tones of the sky. "Of course,"

Leaving the hotel was an ordeal that Louis watched patiently. Harry makes phone calls to at least four different people, his manager and then a particular driver that is responsible for Harry's transportation, even though Louis insists he could drive them back to his place, but won't be able to, for safety measures. His luggage is practically still organized, so, they can leave shortly after when Harry's ride arrives.

Louis exits the room and steps outside first, acting clueless to the small crowd of nervous fans that begins to form on the sidewalk. He feels uptight when he recognizes people holding large cameras around the exit of the luxurious hotel, quietly wondering if anyone saw them on the balcony. He spots a black car and a couple of security staff, as well as bodyguards surrounding the automobile's doors. Louis gets a tensing sensation on his gut, almost as if the crowd around him is going to swallow him alive. He shoves the anxious feelings aside and goes to his car, poorly parked on the street as he was in a rush to see Harry when he got there previously.

He sits on the vehicle and waits, soon getting a text from Harry announcing he's going to exit in a few seconds. Sure enough, he watches from his driver's seat as cameras flash like lighting, repeatedly and mercilessly. He can spot Harry's curls sticking out from the crowd, and by the extra minutes it takes for him to enter the car, he's sure that Harry stopped to give attention to his fans.

Louis smiles at the thought and shifts the car on drive when the black car closes securely. He watches through the rear view mirror as the ride follows him through the busy streets and completes the ten-minute ride, reaching his complex, where they enter quickly.

The garage is open, so it's easy for Harry to exit the car and walk out and through the small entrance hall, then the elevators. Louis is carrying some of his luggage while Harry kindly thanks the driver and paces beside Louis, his torso covered by a discreet dark hoodie, the hood tucking his curls in.

Harry's eyes are wandering around the simple complex, but Louis sees nothing in his expression besides curiosity and comfort. "So, that's where I've been sending flowers to." He mutters with a dimpled smile as they exit the elevator, soon arriving to his door.

The smaller man helps with the bags, noticing how his heart beats a bit faster and harder at the sight of Harry in his apartment. He turns on the lights and feels instantly glad that he's been keeping the place clean and neat during his vacation. Harry doesn't hesitate to enter, although his feet drag across the flooring.

"What do you think? All the plants are still alive, by the way," Louis says, his voice echoing in a familiar melody inside his own space. Harry turns, shoots him a smile and approaches.

"It's so nice, Lou," Harry announces with genuine adoration.

Louis ponders. Maybe Harry does miss domesticity and the smaller ambient that doesn't portray any kind of threat to his public life. Harry gives him a short kiss and continues to gaze around as Louis takes his luggage to his bedroom. Harry follows quietly behind, eyes still taking in every detail.

"I don't have a guest room, nor do I have a queen-sized bed, but I think we'll fit." Louis mentions jokingly and when Harry falls silent, the smaller man looks back to see the singer smiling.

He approaches and takes Louis' face in his hands. Louis feels the gelid rings on his fingers giving him chills that he didn't know he craved until then. "We'll absolutely fit." He kisses Louis endearingly, in a peaceful rhythm that he didn't have back at the hotel. Louis takes it as a sign of comfort and relaxation, causing him to smile amid the kiss. "The closer, the better." Harry adds, smiling as well.

"I definitely agree," Louis is sure that he's dreaming, that none of this is real and that he's about to wake up in his single bed tangled in nothing but sheets.

He was wrong.

He wakes up the next morning with Harry's long limbs resting on top of his frame, head full of curls scattered across his only pillow, and the blankets kicked off to the corner against the wall, leaving them both covered only in each other's warmth.

He doesn't complain at all.

The kitchen feels smaller when Harry's pulling Louis to dance.

"Come here, darling," Harry speaks with an exaggerated roll of his tongue, fingers grasping Louis' forearms as he taps his bare feet on the hardwood flooring. There was music coming from somewhere after Louis exited the steam of his bathroom. He could hear pans on the stove while he got dressed for work and his senses perked in interest at the aroma of fresh breakfast.

It was unreal to watch the singer move through his kitchen, casual clothing covering his tall body, surrounded by a domestic atmosphere that Harry carried along with him anywhere they went.

Louis begins to believe that Harry himself is an entire home, laced in adoration as he moves to the slow rhythm of the song that echos inside. "You're unbelievable, Haz," Louis mutters, trying to match Harry's coordinated movements. The singer has his hands on his smaller waist, guiding him slowly, yet rushing enough for Louis to feel adrenaline rising in his veins in the early hours of the morning.

His apartment almost feels alive, with the plants and the music and _Harry._

"When are we going to stop dancing and eat the delicious meal you've made?" Louis questions, although he doesn't truly want the dance to end. Harry's grasp on his body feels secure, his hips rolling in harmony with the soft drums. The space is small and there's not much room to move around but Louis is certain that Harry's magic touch makes it feel like they're in a dance-floor, holding the two of them only.

Harry finally glances at him, a spark in his mud-colored orbs. "When the song's finished," He responds with a lingering whisper that has Louis' mind hazed with endearment. The singer bends down to kiss him, but stops purposely in the process, causing Louis to sway on his tip-toes to meet Harry's plump lips halfway. Harry smiles against the peck, "So adorable,"

"Oi," Louis warns and ignores the blush that rises up his cheeks. He is about to ask for another kiss but doesn't have to, as Harry leans in once again, the kiss as slow as their dancing.

Louis never wanted a song to last forever until that moment.

The breakfast is, unsurprisingly, delicious. Louis doesn't remember the last time he had such a full and satisfying meal in the morning before; then he does, and it involved Harry's cooking too, back in London.

"What are you going to do today?" Louis asks, feeling his stomach content itself with the meal.

Harry leans on the small table, chewing on his food slowly. Louis is fond of Harry's energetic moods during the morning, bouncing between high energy and steady tranquility. He shrugs, "I should ask my manager soon, but probably nothing public. Besides the people that saw me yesterday at the hotel, nobody really knows I'm here yet."

Louis nods in response. The plants around them seem to listen to the conversation attentively. "Will you be safe? If you do leave and stuff,"

An adoring smirk makes an appearance along with dimples. "Will be, I promise." Harry assures, "I'll be waiting here when you come back."

Louis doesn't know what to say, or how to react. The loving, unexpected words holding hints of confessions; it was the only thing about Harry that Louis felt unfamiliar with.

_I am with you._

_I'll be waiting here when you come back._

His chest feels like a blooming flower, opening and revealing colors and nectar, all hidden and recoiled before. He hopes that Harry can read his expression and see how much it means to him, every word and accentuation that leaves his lips in his deep, cozy voice.

The sun is bleeding in through the living room window and it casts a dazzling light on Harry's features. Louis believes he looks like an angel, surrounded by the most mundane and ordinary things to exist. Harry's mind is wandering the same path, analyzing the sharp traces of Louis' face and the soft waves of his chestnut hair. His blue eyes look almost icy grey underneath the morning sun.

He's convinced then that Harry can, in fact, see right through him, because the singer stands up from his seat and moves behind him, bending down to hug his sitting frame. His face is pressed on Louis' neck, warm by the sunlight, and Louis finds himself bewildered by everything around him that screams Harry's name and essence.

"You," Harry kisses his shoulder, "Have a good day," He pauses again, lips planting kisses along his neck, going up to his ear, "And call me if you need anything. I'll be fine." He finishes, a kiss on Louis hair.

The smaller man sighs. He's certain that the air feels lighter when he does so, "Alright, love."

Louis realizes he's running a bit later than he's used to, but doesn't rush to give Harry a set of spare keys in case he needs to leave the apartment and to kiss him goodbye before he's out the door, leaving his heart behind with Harry.

Harry's is there when he's back, pushing the door open and meeting the adoring sight of the singer's loose, relaxed position on his couch. Long legs are pulled up close to his chest, some sort of book resting on his knees. His scribbling hand stops when he takes notice of Louis' presence. "Hey Lou!" He greets with a smile plastered on his face.

Louis can't help the grin that he shoots in response, approaching the man across the living room and offering him a simple kiss. "Hi love,"

"You smell like coffee," Harry quickly points out, closing the object in his hands. Up close, Louis notices it's more of a journal, maybe some sort of diary. There are small stars and flowers drawn across the corners of the dark maroon leather that protects the cover. "How was your day?" Harry questions, pulling Louis easily into casual conversation.

Louis drops his backpack on the floor beside the couch, not wasting time to seat by Harry and gesture for him to come closer. Harry obliges with a satisfied smirk. "It was good, yeah, quite normal. Missed you just a little bit." He mutters jokingly.

The singer chuckles, tucked in the cozy embrace. Louis drowns in the scent of critic shampoo that linger on Harry's chocolate curls. He smiles when he realizes that it's his own. "What about you? Did you have to leave for anything?"

Louis only then notices the TV is on and there's a playlist on display, connected to a phone; one of Harry's favorite playlists to listen to when he's alone, he had learned. A soft beat is playing, an acoustic guitar following in harmony and there's a faint piano guiding a melody.

"No, my manager said something about making an public appearance somewhere in Manchester next week. But nothing for today or until Monday, at least." Harry informs.

The smaller man nods and tucks Harry in closer, almost protectively.

He wants to ask why Harry _has_ to place himself at a certain time and on a certain place, as a part of his job. He wants to ask how Harry feels about it, if he's ever upset or feels forced, but Louis doesn't question. He recognizes it's all part of a very specific career that he will never truly understand, although he wants to. Maybe Harry doesn't comprehend it himself either.

"You're all mine until Monday, then?" Louis decides to say, and it feels good to feel Harry's smile against his skin.

"I'm all yours regardless." He makes the mistake to look down and find the sight of Harry's soft and carved features contrasted with the blueish shadows from the moonlight that peeks around the edges of his window. "Are you mine as well?"

Louis is speechless for a second. Maybe it's the vision he's witnessing or the words he's listening. He decides it's a combination of every type of magic that surrounds Harry. He presses a kiss to his forehead. "Obviously."

Harry smiles before he places a soft peck on Louis' chest and then stands up, a hand out and hair adorably all over the place. "I made us dinner, we should eat before it gets too cold.

They set the table and eat. Louis is still mesmerized by the easiness that Harry's presence and conversations can bring. When they're finished, Louis hops into the shower and washes away all the lingering scents of roasted coffee and cinnamon.

The water is warm as it runs down his body, bringing his muscles to full relaxation. His mind eases as he breathes in the steam that clouds his vision, when words linked to Harry come crashing on his brain like waves on a rock.

_I'm all yours regardless._

He doesn't know why it fascinates him, the short sentences that get to him so effortlessly. He feels younger and now he understand why people say that love makes you alive.

_Love._

He loves the water that soaks his skin when he's bare. He's sure that he will love the sight of Harry laying waitingly on his bed after he's exited the steam of his bathroom. He'll love to cuddle the singer until he feels like they can't get any closer, until they both feel tired from resisting sleep, not wanting to lose time with one another.

A four letter word that Louis can't avoid from circling his mind.

His head wanders a bit too much and it leaves behind a trace of longing that turns into desire. Louis glances down to find that he's hard.

He groans, not sure if he's aroused or annoyed at the bodily function. Louis draws a hand down and lets it slide across his boner tentatively. He's sensitive from the hot water, uncontrollably gasping underneath the overwhelming steam. He pulls his hand away and steps out of the shower, only hoping that his mind's focus would drift away from the swelled up member between his legs demanding attention.

He dries his hair lazily and puts on a t-shirt and a pair of briefs, ignoring the pressure that the tight fabric provides to his crotch. He finds sweatpants hanging behind the door and tucks them in, sighing and leaving the bathroom.

Harry is there, on the bed like he expected, his journal on top of his crossed legs again. Louis wonders what kinds of mysteries Harry carries with him, how many ideas and concepts for songs exists there, maybe even poetry, all coiled in fragile pages underneath gentle fingertips. He grins and glares for a while, silently watching the man reading the object.

Louis approaches, throwing his towel and dirty clothes somewhere next to the laundry basket, and embraces the man softly from behind. Harry doesn't move as Louis places his legs on either side of him, his chest meeting his back in a soft encounter that has both of them breathing in a hypnotizing state.

"You're warm," Harry points, closing the journal once again and setting it on the nightstand. Louis is pecking the back of his neck when Harry turns around completely and places himself between Louis' legs, arms locking Louis inside a dangerous trap. Louis wants to drown, wants to find himself submerged on all the things that Harry does that takes his breath away.

Harry is glued to him, his slim hips pressed between Louis' vulnerable navel. "H-Haz," Louis stutters as his vocabulary get anesthetized by the sparking sensations building up his body, making him flutter his eyes closed.

He's slightly embarrassed at the lustful easiness that his mind allows him to fall into; he feels like he's on fire. Harry smirks as he looks down where their hips meet, Louis' knees nudging up his ribs. He leans down, lips pressing on the shell of Louis' ear, "Do you need help with that?"

Louis drowns effortlessly.

He's deep down into cloudy waters and hot steams, gasping for air as he glares up and finds a loving expression twisted with hints of hunger and want. He nods, shaking slightly, his hands coming up to tickle the skin of Harry's tattooed biceps and forearms. Harry beams, this time a predatory smirk takes place.

"How do you want it, Lou?" He whispers, hot breathing colliding with the cold atmosphere. Louis recognizes a reassuring trace in Harry's tone, and he feels comfortable enough to remind himself to breath. He knows Harry will be patient.

Green eyes act like a lighthouse in a sea of violent waves and dark water; he's floating for a moment.

"I-I want to taste you,"

Harry groans after watching Louis reveal his desire so quietly that the silence barely breaks. Louis' hands aren't light anymore; they're gripping Harry's arms and tugging on his shirt, giving eventual and adventurous touches down towards Harry's already swelled cock. Harry concentrates back on Louis, pressing kisses to his face.

"Wanna give me a blowjob?" He asks for confirmation and Louis responds through a shy nod. "Have you done it before?"

Louis finds magic in the shadows of Harry's jaw. He shakes his head, "No,"

Instead of the disappointing groan that Louis was secretly expecting, comes a grin filled with content. Harry bites his lip while Louis is floating waves in his mind, hips following a steady rhythm as their groins drag deliciously against one another. "Then let me show you first, yeah?"

Louis nods eagerly, adding words to show how much he wants to _feel_ , "Yes, please,"

Harry kisses him one last time before lowering himself slowly, taking Louis' shirt off in the process and worshiping the exposed skin, planting pecks and gentle nibbles that makes Louis shudder. Louis feels like a teenager, experimenting with a hint of nervousness and endless hunger, while Harry's fingers hook on the waistband of his sweatpants before pulling the material down along with his boxers when he lifts his hips allowably.

Louis' cock springs free, a shiver running through his still warm and damp skin. Harry snakes a hand around his member, pumping torturously slow. "Oh my, Harry, fuck-" He moans, touches offering instant reactions. It's all Harry's fault.

"So fucking beautiful, Lou," Harry praises, using a curse that Louis rarely hears from him. It's another hint pure desire that makes Louis' hips vibrate. "Look at me," It should sound like a question, but on Harry's tongue it's a sweet demand that Louis obliges immediately. He looks down, eyes half-open from the sea and the fog that surrounds him. Harry lowers his head, licking his cock all the way up, thumb flickering across the head of his cock.

"Harry!" Louis throws his head back, feeling his mind going numb from the sight alone. He looks down again, not wanting to fail the request. Harry continues then, a large hand pumping his member again, a bit faster as he wraps his plump, hot lips around the head and swirl his tongue across the sensible tip.

Louis doesn't know what to do with himself. He's stupefied, captivated and held hostage inside Harry's ministrations and all the sensations that came with it. His skin feels like it's on fire and he doesn't know if he's still humid from the shower or if he's sweating already.

The man above him doesn't stop; he continues to take Louis into his mouth, engulfing him into an addictive heat. His other hand is on Louis' navel, caressing his skin as if rubbing comfort there. He knows that Harry's good at it when the head of his cock reaches the back of his throat with ease, pulling back and going further again, searching experimentally for a rhythm that feels right for both.

"O-oh," Louis' fingers begin to ache as he finds his fists balled up in the sheets, grasping hardly.

He's on a boat, floating, he can't let go.

Harry looks peaceful, eyes fluttering close and mouth working slowly, skillfully and smoothly in a way that Louis has never seen or felt before. Of course, he's gotten head previously, but never managed to finish like so, always portraying oral sex as a short, quick foreplay. With Harry, he feels like he's about to burst at any giving second.

He releases his grip on the wrinkled sheets and one of his hands subconsciously drives down towards Harry's head, where he's working slowly, bobbing along his shaft. Louis tries to resist the urge to plant his fingers on the soft curls, but he doesn't have to.

Harry pulls away for a moment, looking up with tears forming on the rims of his eyes and pink, puffy, parted lips. He smiles, dimples popping and Louis wants to absolutely consume the man alive. He looks sinful and miraculous at the same time. "You can touch and pull, whatever you want,"

Harry is offering so much and Louis can't help but feel the greed to take it all. Harry takes Louis' cock again then, hands now getting tangled on his curls as he picks up the pace and continues to give Louis the best head of his entire life. It's hot, the softness of Harry's lips and sucked in cheeks is merciless and steady. It's unfair how good it feels.

Louis is moaning softly, concentrated on the sight of his fingers grasping onto the soft hair and Harry's mouth putting on a show that Louis is sure is about to end soon. His fingers twist a few locks of dark hair and then Harry's moaning, vibrations going directly onto his throbbing cock. "Fuck, Harry, oh," Louis allows a string of curses and chants of Harry's name, along with a melody of moans and whispers that the singer consumes like it's pure art.

"I'm close, Haz, close," Louis announces, lips puffy from biting.

Harry's pace is already steady and fast but the singer manages to work quicker, encouraging Louis to trip over the edge. He eventually does and he can fell his come coating Harry's tongue as he orgasms, his back arching away from the mattress slightly, curving under the heat of Harry's mouth. His high last long, drawing out breathy moans, and when he comes down, he's sure that he's above the water.

Harry reappears above him, offering him a dirty smirk.

Louis raises from his pillow to kiss him greedily, tasting himself on Harry's lips. Although he just came, there's a hunger that doesn't go away, a mesmerizing craving that he can't shake, and then he's flipping Harry over so he's on top. Curls land graciously on the pillowcase and Harry's eyes fill with need and blind lust. "Lou," He begins, moaning his words out, "You don't have to do it, if you-"

"I want to." Louis assures, confident and certain. He consumes the sight of Harry's eagerness with pleasure as the man's hands traces his jaw softly, and yet so hungrily.

Louis takes off Harry's shirt and exposes all the tattoos. He gazes over the ink, and trails down to look at the leafs that decorate his hips. In a swift motion that he doesn't plan, he pulls Harry's briefs and pajama shorts. His mouth waters at the sight of his cock, heavy and dripping with pre-come that gathered on the tip. Louis pumps Harry's cock slowly, mimicking his pace from before, and watches Harry arch off the bed. He takes the opportunity to latch his lips onto one of Harry's nipples; he doesn't hesitate to drink in the strings of moans that fall out of the man's mouth, humming against the perkiness on his chest.

"Oh, Louis, that feels so _fucking_ good," Harry sings and it's all that Louis wants to hear for the rest of his life.

Louis decides that he wants to watch Harry fall apart, bloom open like a sunflower under the sun and crash like a wave against a rock. Louis wants everything, he's greedy when it comes to Harry and his magic.

He finishes biting gently on his nipples and leaving a subtle mark under one of the swallows on his chest, then he's lowering himself down and there's no nervousness or hormonal fences that hold him back when he gives Harry's cock the first long lick.

Louis drowns easily, once again, on Harry and all the things that fill his senses. The touch of his soft skin, eager moans and traces of lime and vanilla takes over the air. Louis closes his lips around the head and feels satisfied with the moan that Harry lets out.

He remembers that Harry enjoys dirty talk when he's looking down at Louis and muttering; "I'm not gonna last, Lou, _fuck,_ your mouth feels so good, oh, want you so much, want you all the time,"

_I am with you._

Louis begins to bob his head, taking Harry's girth surprisingly well for his first time; he gags a few times when he pushes too hard, and Harry stills his hips at those moments and glances down to check on him, but before words can be exchanged, Louis is back at it, consuming every noise, taste and feel with a burning hunger that doesn't go away. Louis doesn't think it ever will.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna come, Lou,"

Harry warns and Louis knows that Harry's probably expecting him to draw back, but he doesn't, the hunger doesn't let him.

He wouldn't have it any other way, as moans and cries of pleasurable desperation tear the quietness of the apartment. Harry arches under the dimmed lights of his window, the flickering light-bulb on the bathroom and the brightness of his own green lighthouse. Louis swallows the warm liquid, moaning at the unfamiliarity that hits his tongue, not finding any discomfort in the process. He licks Harry clean until he's shuddering at the sensitivity of his cock, broken moans and chuckles leaving his bitten lips.

Louis chuckles too when he lies down by Harry's side, wrapping his arms around the man's frame, and then they're both floating.


	11. Chapter 11

It's the next day at work when Louis feels like he can't breathe.

There's a building fire inside of his gut that has been bubbling up since Niall pulled him into the staff room of the coffee shop with his phone in his shaky hands.

Pictures of Harry leaving the hotel in Manchester were finally released to the public; it doesn't look too much out of the ordinary. Harry's surrounded by bodyguards, walking out with the clothes that Louis remembers hugging tightly when he got to the hotel.

However, people were more observant that Louis imagined.

Niall pointed comments of fans and media workers that were there, mentioning that Harry's car was following someone else's. There was only one blurry picture - thankfully - of Louis' car driving in front of the security's black automobile. His license plate wasn't readable, but Niall recognized Louis' car in splattered across those gossip websites that only ever posted about celebrities' relationships, scandals and whatnot.

Louis managed to remain calm in front of a slightly panicked Niall. "It looks like every other car, mate. It could be anyone else's, you only recognized it because you know me and you know what's going on between Harry and I."

"You're right, but I'm still going to be a bit concerned," Niall flickers through more pictures, then shoves the cellphone into his apron. "You'll be careful, yeah?" Louis offers him a reassuring grin.

He knew that Niall was worried about him; he was always this protective. It's a dynamic that has been firm since the beginning of their friendship, when Niall approached him and learned about the struggles of the man from a small town that came to a big city all by himself with not much to his name. Niall knew all of his downs and ups, been there for the most of them, and pushed Louis through difficult times. Louis haven't thought about how Niall would react to his face and name being connected to a huge music star and, consequently, losing most of his privacy.

"Is he in your apartment?" Niall questions, hands on his hips. Louis only nods, waiting for the anxious feeling in his stomach to disappear.

It doesn't.

It grows when Louis sits on his car, preparing himself for his way back home.

_Home._

He thought of Harry then, lingering in his apartment, enjoying the unusual privacy to read and clean around, take care of the plants he'd bought for Louis and cooking meals. It feels surreal. Louis' mind doesn't let those facts settle in a part of his brain that recognizes it as real, but he doesn't want to let it go either.

He breathes in, parked still, deafening silence surrounding him inside his closed vehicle. He taps his phone and searches for things he'd probably regret, but does it anyway.

_Harry Styles leaves luxurious hotel in Manchester, follows mystery car._

_Harry Styles seen in Manchester going to unknown location. New love interest?_

It's only black and bold letters on the top of websites and newsflash, but it makes his heart shudder.

When he drives back, he feels paranoid. His car is stuck in traffic and he feels like people around are glaring, although he's certain that no one can tell who he is. He understands then, why Harry felt so at home in Louis' place. It's the privacy and the secrecy, the safe and locked environment of the unknown. As much as Harry loved the attention and the adrenaline-driven shows, dissipating from the face of the Earth inside a small apartment with nothing much to do seemed like the best way to recharge.

Louis feels relieved too when he opens the door and sees Harry doing some sort of baking on his kitchen. The apartment smells like fresh bread and he remembers their amazing time in London; it makes him grin widely, despite his heart beating at race speed. Harry quickly notices the man's presence and offers him a dimpled smile full of adoration.

"Hey-"

Louis rushes towards Harry, his footsteps matching the beat of his heart. He interrupts Harry's greeting with a tight embrace, pulling the man down slightly. It knocks a breath out of the singer, but he can feel a small chuckle building up in the taller's man chest, while his own rib-cage holds a volatile fireball that makes him want to collapse.

"Is everything alright?" Harry asks, a smile on his face from the sudden gesture, but Louis can read the coated concern in his words.

He feels like he's being unfair to Harry, the way he's reacting by something so ordinary and insignificant to Harry's world. Louis is sure that Harry already knows about all the media coverage about him since he got back in Manchester, despite his efforts to not be bothered until he has to make another public appearance.

It feels unfair when it's Harry's face that is stamped across all the photos, when it's his green eyes that get blinded by hundreds of flashing lights and when it's his mind that has to deal with requests from emotional fans and pressing questions from noisy paparazzi's; when all that Louis gets is the back of his car pictured in a blurry image that doesn't even has his license plate clearly shown.

So, he nods shortly in response and avoids talking about it for the rest of the night.

It's almost one in the morning and neither of them wanted to go to sleep yet, despite having spent the rest of the evening tangled together across the apartment.

"Have you told people about you and I?"

The question comes from Harry in a whisper and it barely breaks the silence inside Louis' bedroom. He has his leg bent across Louis' hips while his fingertips trace the lettering tattooed in Louis' collarbones.

Louis doesn't think much about his answer, or maybe he was as tired as the man laying on his chest; "I only told Niall, after I got back from London, I think," The moonlight bleeding in through the window bathes Harry's skin. He hums at the response. "Have you?" Louis questions back and to that, Harry grins against his bare skin.

"Told my sister and a couple of my close friends," He informs, a tone in his voice telling Louis that it means something entirely different and special in Harry's world. Louis smiles as well, looking up at the blank ceiling of his room. Harry doesn't know what else to say so he kisses his neck a few times and enjoys the contented hums and sighs that run past Louis' lips.

Louis doesn't know to say either as his mind goes blank when Harry's lips are on his skin.

Harry breaks the silence a few moments later, and this time he has his eyes closed as he cuddles into Louis. "I wrote songs about you."

Louis' eyelids flutter shut, his chest blooming at the drowsy confession. "I'd love to hear it some time," He can't hold back the smile and the fond. He wants to hear Harry sing right there where he is, face pressed on his neck and breathing brushing his collarbones. He wants to listen his voice tearing the walls in his apartment and he wants to feel the vibrations of chords pumping in his veins.

Everything that relates to Harry, he wants. He _craves._

"You will," Harry whispers and that's the last thing that Louis hears before he surrenders to sleep.

The weekend arrives a day later and Louis is glad that he doesn't have to leave during that Saturday morning. He wakes up earlier than Harry and manages to slip out of bed without disturbing the younger man's sleep.

Louis head to the kitchen with intent, his feet softly patting the hardwood flooring as he paces around the apartment and fixes a good breakfast for both of them. He's boiling eggs and re-heating the bread that Harry had baked the previous day, then boiling water for Harry's coffee and for his own tea.

While the stove works quietly, he bounces around his living room and waters the plants, removes dead leafs that had fell on the ground and opens the curtains. The day is cloudy, a light tone of grey taking over the sky. Tiny raindrops decorate the glass of his closed window, more like a thick dew than proper rain. Louis loved the weather that way, chilly and unpredictable. Something about it held comfort, and yet a mystery that was out there for him to find.

He breathed slowly and admired the view from his window for a while longer, before hearing the water beginning to bubble up in the kitchen. He set the table for the early meal and went back to his dark bedroom, where curls and long limbs were spread across his mattress. His smile was automatic and his fond was in autopilot from the moment that he approached and bent down, pressing his lips on the singer's temple.

"Haz?" He whispered sweetly.

Harry shifted his feet, eyes blinking, "Hm?"

"Hey, love," Louis wiped a few loose curls from the man's face, revealing green orbs fluttering open, "Made you breakfast,"

"Am I dreaming?" Harry slurred in a raspy tone.

Louis kissed the bridge of his nose delicately. "I don't know. Wanna hop out of there and find out?"

There's something almost inspiring about the way that Harry wakes up. He always starts off confused and drowsy, limbs lingering the bed and dragging across the floor, and then he's completely awake, smiles coming in mercilessly bright and hands pulling Louis into energetic little dances through the apartment. Louis never loved mornings until then.

He feels sparks when Harry's taking a seat on his table and eating the meal he prepared, his chest getting tight with emotions that he can't explain and probably never will be able to. The singer's skin is glowing in the early hours of the day and Louis doesn't comprehend how he could survive his entire life without the sight of it before.

He's sipping on his traditional british style tea, Harry's gulping down black coffee - no sugar, much to Louis' surprise - and the atmosphere around them is quiet and casual. "So, what's the appearance you're making on Monday?" Louis asks, lips sweet from tea and Harry's kisses.

The singer shrugs. "Don't know for sure yet, but usually is like, take a walk somewhere, or come to visit a radio station and get some pictures taken. Usually I accept the radio, it's fun and I get to meet new people. I've made some friends here in Manchester like that."

Louis' smiling throughout the slow pace of Harry's speech, while rain in the glass is the melody playing softly in the background. "Will you let me know which radio so I can tune in?"

"Won't you be at work?"

"I'll manage," Louis blinks.

The singer leans in across the table and pursue his lips, asking for a kiss in a relaxed manner. Louis doesn't fail to comply. "Lou," Harry starts, his eyes going down for a moment, "I'm probably going to be asked about, you know, the hotel thing."

Louis' lips suddenly feel dry, despite the milky tea coating his taste buds. He swallows. "Oh, yeah, alright," Is all he can say while his mind's settling into the subject.

Harry glares at him almost apologetically. "So, I'm going to come up with something to not expose you or our location,"

The matter feels distant in Louis' mind. Aside from the nerve-wrecking incident with his car appearing on a few websites and fan accounts, Harry's public life and the constant, heated attention he receives from the media felt like it was only real in a parallel universe, as if the man sitting on his table and sharing breakfast with doesn't have to deal with any of it.

But he does. Louis had decided before that he would do whatever he could to try and understand Harry's perspective and to respect the way that he deals with his struggles.

Louis recognizes to himself at that moment that he's heavyhearted. He feels down because Harry has a frown on his expression and his eyes are scrambling the elements on he surface of the table as if he's looking for something; as if he's _grasping_ for an apology that Louis is certain he doesn't need to offer.

However, it comes anyway, in a low tone voice that Louis doesn't want to hear again.

"I'm sorry if this talk upsets you,"

"It doesn't, I understand," Louis responds quickly. He's lying but in his mind, it's a white lie. Anything that will make Harry smile again.

He doesn't smile at first and Louis decides to take action. He gulps the remaining of his barely-warm tea, stands up and approaches, hugging Harry from behind where he's sitting. He feels the singer letting out a long breath, a sigh of relief, his head tilted backwards to rest Louis' shoulder.

"If the rain stops, do you want to go out today?" Louis offers, mumbling as if the world could hear.

Harry glances upwards, meeting Louis' blue eyes. A dimple threatens to appear and Louis wants nothing but to see it fully present on the man's cheeks. "Are you sure?"

Louis kisses him sweetly in response.

Harry finally smiles then, and Louis can feel those sparks again, wrapping around his bones like vines. Maybe it's _happiness_ , and he's sure the word doesn't hold enough meaning for the way he's feeling; for the way that Harry makes him feel.

The rain stops a couple hours past noon.

Gladly, the beginning of June is cold enough for them to bundle up in thick coats and scarfs, disguising Harry at the same time as they left the apartment and Louis drives them - after asking Harry to decline the private driver this time - to the heart of Manchester for a quiet date.

There's about a dozen people scattered around Albert Square, brave souls that dared to face the strong and cold winds of the season and stroll around in the historic site. Harry seems familiar with the place, legs carrying him through with ease as he points to ordinary things with a brightness in his eyes that makes Louis' believe that he's the actual monument there.

Harry laughs at pigeons and taps his feet in small puddles of water. Louis can't help but to enjoy the youthful energy that surrounds the singer. They circle the open about two times - because Harry likes to just _walk -_ and then they sit on the stairs of a water feature, between trees that dance with the breeze. "I've always liked this spot," Louis breathes and feel his lungs inhale the cold air.

"Me too," Harry completes, "My family and I used to come here during Christmas, before all the X Factor stuff, it was always decorated and crowded,"

The way that Harry talks about his family is endearing. It's full of love and longing, good memories lacing his words that makes Louis feel like he was there as well, with them. He wonders about his past, the manner that Harry mentions his family members and their stories show true gratefulness for his life before the fame.

Manchester Town Hall stands tall and proud before their eyes, the huge clock ticking behind the trees. "I used to come here a lot when I first moved." Louis added. "I had a weird roommate before when I was working shitty jobs, so this open space was my escape. I remember feeling free here, you know. It was almost reckless how youthful I was. I still feel it when I'm here."

Harry's gaze is on him, his knees brought closer to his thick coat. Louis doesn't see the way Harry's analyzing his features and finding nothing in his sight but reasons to be infinitely grateful to be there again.

"Glad to know that it's a special place for both of us, then." Harry mutters and Louis barely hears it.

Blue eyes look aside, encountering green that puts the trees to shame. Louis' chest is blooming once again, and it's all Harry's fault, his curls that bounce softly underneath his beanie and hands that recoil behind the sleeves of his coat. "With you, now it's even more." He states, watching a smile beam on Harry's face. It feels like torture. A torture that he craves. "I really want to kiss you right now,"

"I do too," Harry whispers. "I'm sorry,"

Louis' skin shiver instantly and the cold isn't the one to blame. "Hey, don't," Louis cuts off. He dares to bring one of his hands up - hidden behind the long sweater's sleeve - and graze Harry's jaw, warm from where it's tucked underneath a scarf. "You're here, yeah? With me. That's what matters."

_I am with you._

Harry melts into the touch. "I can kiss you all I want when we get back," Louis adds with a smile of his own as the clock marks a new hour.

"Please do." Harry pleads, and Louis is certain that there's nothing in the world that could make that moment and that place less special.


	12. Chapter 12

Thankfully, Mondays are quiet in the cafe and Louis can hear the radio station echoing inside the shop; there's something sweet about listening to Harry's voice while he's at work, like an invisible comfort that wraps the hours of his shift.

He maneuvers ingredients and appliances on the counters and prepares orders, while silently paying attention to the interview being broadcasted on the cafe's speakers lowly.

_"It's lovely that you're back in Manchester so soon, Harry, really nice to have you here."_

Louis smirks before the reply comes.

_"Yeah, yeah, thank you for having me, it's been great so far. Always loved Manchester."_

He glances around discreetly to see if anyone is watching his smile growing significantly bigger at Harry's words, the slow speech and deep voice that has turned into an essential part of his day. Niall pops up a few times from where's he's working at the kitchen and shoots a knowing glance at Louis as soon as he hears the interview playing.

The interviewer continues; "So, _is there any specific reason for you to be around again so soon? Is there some girl out there that we don't know about?"_

Louis' heart skips a beat for a second. If he wasn't skillful enough, he's sure his shaky hands would have dropped something. He knows that Harry won't say anything about him or reveal any compromising detail of his staying in the city, but it still makes his veins freeze slightly.

Harry's partial lie echos; _"Ahn, no, I had a free schedule for about a week and I decided to come and see a friend, it's all,"_

He breathes in relief and by Harry's tone in the interview, he can tell that the man is nervous too. 

_"I see, well, let's move on to work then,"_

Louis continues to listen as he works and manages his thoughts as well; there's a warm feeling bursting in his chest from time to time, spreading through his body like wildfire. It feels similar to the anxiety from the previous week, when his car appeared on gossip websites.

He can tell that Harry's upset about lying.

He recognizes the negative emotions that coats the singer's expression every time that he mentions his situation with the media, and although he is a very private person, he doesn't seem to want to hide anything. Louis can't begin to imagine how paranoid Harry must have felt in the early years of his career, when he was just sixteen and suddenly had the attention of the entire world on him.

He is beginning to believe that Harry is being careful to protect him and it makes Louis feel guilty. He's trying to distance the anxious concerns, to shake away the fire in his gut that tells him that he will face an ugly part of Harry's world once he appears as Harry's partner.

_Partner._

They're not official yet, and it doesn't stun him. They haven't felt the need for big announcement, or to ask the proper words and pop any questioning. Louis always felt like words weren't essential then, but now he's convinced that communication is going to be a big part on how they are going to sort out their relationship once it goes public.

He has a sensation that they are just waiting for something to be leaked. He doesn't want to feel like he's stepping on egg shells around Harry's public life, but he doesn't want to wait for something to just slip and expose them out of the blue, either.

It's a dangerous crossroad that Louis has to go through.

It feels worth it when he's listening to the radio and knowing that he will get to kiss him at the end of the day.

The interview ends a couple hours before his shift ends, and then he's driving home and gripping the steering wheel harder than usual. His mind didn't give him a break until he eased inside his complex and reached his apartment, finding Harry still in the clothes he chose to go out that morning, before his driver picked him up. He's in the bedroom going through his luggage, sitting on the floor, possibly organizing the mess he did earlier.

He glances up at Louis then, a smile on his face; Louis notices he's got a bit of makeup on his skin. He doesn't give Harry any time to greet him before he's approaching and bending down, kneeling to give the man a lovely kiss and a caressing hand on his hair. "Heard your interview today, so, is there some girl out there that I don't know about?" Louis chuckles and Harry laughs out loud, recognizing the words said by the clueless interviewer.

"Not really, but there's some boy that is messing with my head," Harry whispers. Louis shakes his head and smiles, rolling his eyes and kissing him again. It's intoxicating and relieving to hear his voice in person after a long day. "How was work?"

"Good, how was yours?" Louis inquired. He sat by the singer and took on the task to help Harry fold his clothes.

"It was fun, after the interview we got to talking a bit more privately and I met a few fans, so that was nice," He pauses, shoving a pair of _bright blue_ pants into the large bag. Louis smirks. "Oh, I also got a heated call from Jeffrey,"

"Your manager? Why?" Louis requested.

"Some people saw us at Albert Square."

Louis' heart freezes and the anxious warmth rises up again. He doesn't let it show, though. "Oh,"

Harry looks unfazed, almost familiar with the situation. He continues; "He said he had to make some calls to avoid a couple pictures of us from being posted."

The smaller man tosses another shirt into the bag. He's shaking. "I-I'm sorry, Haz, I thought we would be safe,"

Green eyes are on him then, suddenly full of worry and realization. He places a gentle hand on Louis' thigh, dragging his attention from the weight on his chest to the reassuring touch. "Hey, it's fine, this happens quite a lot." He informs. Louis swallows the lump on his throat. "How many times d'you think he did the same thing to avoid pissed drunk pictures of me from being out there?"

The singer chuckles lightly and that's all that Louis needs to hear. "Fair enough," He breathes. "But I should have known better. I wasn't careful then and-"

"Louis," Harry calls. There's almost a warn in his tone, despite his endearing expression. "It's alright. Being with you is all that matters to me right now."

He's positive that Harry has magic on his touch and voice, from the way that all his worries and fears dissipate, leaving behind only a trace of warmth and soft, ragged breathing. "So, that means I could've kissed you there, then?" He smiles.

"You can kiss me always," Harry mutters, eyes pleading.

So he does.

He kisses Harry sweetly and with hunger, as if the man could disappear from his view, from his touch, at any giving second. He doesn't stop and Harry doesn't complain; in fact, his contented hums soon turn into lovely, quiet moans that fills the apartment. Harry is all over him, Louis is drowning again under the waves; they're grasping at each other like they're both afraid that the moment won't last forever.

Neither of them want to separate, not even to reach the bed a few feet away, as they intensely consume one another on the bedroom floor.

Even their clothes don't get a chance of being taken off, jeans and briefs getting on the way as Louis gently flips Harry on his back so that he's straddling the singer's lap, dragging their covered erections with rolls of his eager hips. Harry's groaning when his large hands grip Louis' thighs, encouraging him to continue the rhythm of his movements.

He whispers something that Louis can't properly hear, but is able to make out a few words as his own hearing gets compromised by the sparks on his groin;

"Lou, Lou-" Harry chants breathlessly, "Oh my _God, Louis,_ I need you-"

Louis is deep down, lying helpless in the bottom of the ocean. Harry's head is thrown back, dark curls contrasting with the hardwood floor. "I'm here, love, got you-" He whispers back and watches Harry's sweet smile part his lips, face twisting into pleasure.

He doesn't know for how long he's moving his hips and dry-humping the daylights out of Harry, but it seems too long and not enough at the same time, his knees are sore and his thighs may bruise from the force of Harry's grip. He doesn't want him to let go, though.

Louis thinks he might scream before he reaches his orgasm, watching Harry fall apart too, back arching away from the ground and hips twitching under his own. It's incredible and amazingly hormonal; coming in his pants like a teenager, a sensation that only now, in his mid-twenties, he got to experience.

He's coming down from his high when he hears the faint muttering under him,

"Lou, I, I don't-"

He focus on Harry's erratic breathing and uneven tone; "What? Can't hear you love," He says, panting too.

Harry doesn't respond at first, but lifts his back off the floor, and then strong arms are tight around Louis' waist. He nuzzles his head on Louis' chest and stays there for a few moments, regaining his breathing as the smaller man on top of him does the same. Louis presses kisses on Harry's hair and waits.

It feels like forever, and once again, not long enough. Eternity wouldn't be enough. Louis doesn't care about his bruising knees or the come that is drying in their pants. He doesn't have a single concern in the world.

Until he hears a quiet sob.

"Haz?" He mumbles, voice barely audible, and laces Harry's jaw with his smaller hands. Harry looks up at him and his eyes are rimmed with tears, his throat trembling with another sob that threatens to come out. "What's wrong?" Louis asks calmly, despite the rapid beating of his heart. 

"I don't-" Harry quietly inhales, calming himself down. A tear runs down his cheek and Louis is quick to catch it with his thumb. "I don't wanna be alone,"

Louis' chest aches. "You're not, Harry, look at me," The singer complies. His eyes look even greener under the shining coat of tears. "I'm here, I'm not going anywhere," He reassures, but Harry's frown doesn't leave.

"I-I know, but," Harry sobs, arms tightening around Louis' frame. He thinks that Harry might break him in half and he wouldn't mind it one bit. "But I know that you're scared, Lou," Louis doesn't find his own breathing. His fingers dance across the other man's cheekbones, digits bathing in his shy tears.

Harry tries to speak again but a sob leaves his throat instead. It's painful to see and to hear, and Louis thinks he may cry himself. "Hey," He says, looking into Harry's eyes. "How about we shower, get out of these dirty clothes, and then we talk about it?" He offers, "Sounds good?" Harry nods, letting go of his tight embrace on Louis, wiping away at his tears.

"I'm sorry," He starts, but Louis cuts him off with a kiss on his forehead.

"Shh," he shushes, "Don't be. It's important, for both of us, yeah?" Louis lifts from Harry's lap and resists the urge to go down again. He offers his hands for the other man to stand up, and guides them both to his bathroom, grabbing their towels and turning on the hot water.

The walls are fogging up with steam when Louis carefully peels off Harry's clothes, gently tracing the man's curves and tattoos, planting kisses along his exposed skin. Harry has his eyes half-open, slightly red still, and his hair frame his face beautifully. Despite it not being the first time of them being naked in front of one another, it feels intimate and almost meaningful, metaphoric to the vulnerability of the moment.

Louis throws the dirty clothes in a corner and guides Harry into the shower, following behind. The water hits their bare skin and it's relaxing, along with the scents of shampoo and citric soap.

"Lower your head so I can wash your hair," Louis mutters, voice competing with the noise of the water hitting the floor. Harry smiles at that, and if he wasn't emotionally shaken, he would most likely make a comment about Louis' height.

Louis washes his curls, softly rubbing, then slides the soap through his tall body, a mixture of arousal and endearment filling his veins. He focus on Harry though, his closed eyes and relaxed features, soaked underneath the shower head. The foam is rinsed down, and when it's Harry's time to wash him, it doesn't come as a surprise that his ministrations are like his speech; slow, careful and loving.

When they're clean, Louis wraps a towel around Harry and himself, and they exited the bathroom.

Louis gets dressed quietly, not disturbing the silence that falls on the room like the night. Harry picked one of Louis' shirts, a few sizes smaller, making his muscles and curves a bit more predominant, the top of his hips peeking from the bottom. Louis can't contain a smile and can't keep his hands to himself. He crosses the room and hugs Harry, who immediately melts into the embrace.

"Wanna talk, love?" Louis requests. Harry only nods in response and paces to the bed, where he draws his legs close to his chest. Louis caress the skin of his arms while he breathes and waits for Harry to speak.

He does after a few minutes, eyes traveling the surface of the unmade mattress in search of the right words. "I can't stop it," Louis wants to ask what Harry means, confused, but he doesn't. Harry continues with a breath, "I can't help but feel afraid to lose you. Everyday, I feel like you're going to tell me that you can't do this anymore, all the hiding and the fears, I noticed the way you acted the day that those pictures of your car were released,"

Louis sighs, his heart aches. He didn't stop to think about how guilty Harry probably felt about the ordeal.

"I don't want to lose you, but it would be selfish of me to force you to stay," Harry completes.

The atmosphere around them feels light, but heavily emotional. Louis fights the fire on his chest and Harry's eyes are watering again. "You're not forcing me, Haz. I want this. I want _you._ "

Harry lips' tug slightly into a shy smile that drops shortly after. "I know you do, Lou," One of his palms opens to receive Louis' touch. Their fingers intertwine and Louis feels stronger, suddenly. Harry breathes, "But I have to let you know that it's not going to be easy. People are going to judge us and _you_ _,_ and it's going to hurt because it feels unfair."

Louis can tell that those feelings coating Harry's frown aren't new. It's something that he carries since he was sixteen and has to face everyday. His words almost feel like a confession of his own heart.

"I-I don't want you to hurt," Harry says and that's when he cries again.

"Oh, darling," Louis wraps him in tight arms, letting his head drop on his shoulder. His window allows a chilly breeze to invade the room, but Louis doesn't feel the cold. Harry's cries are silent, muffled by the skin of Louis' neck. "As long as I have you, I won't hurt."

He sobs, "People can be cruel, sometimes."

Louis knows. He's lived it; the struggles of his early times in Manchester and how people were quick to judge him, to hurt him, knowing he wouldn't fight back. He knows because the people that were suppose to support him endlessly didn't hesitate to tell him he'd fail and that his dreams were unachievable.

"I know." Louis mutters, and Harry lifts his head to look at him. "I am scared." Louis admits. His heart feels a bit more light, "But I care so much about you and I can't see myself being this happy without you next to me. So, whatever it takes. Good things don't come easy, isn't that what they say?"

Dimples appear on Harry's tear-stained cheeks. Louis can't help but to smile as well. "I can't believe I didn't have you all my life."

"You have me now." He kisses his tears away, "And I have you. No one will take that away from us, I promise."

It's a solid promise. Feels almost reckless, how Louis is giving so much without thinking of the consequences, how he's opening his soul despite the fear and hesitation. However, there's nothing in the world that feels this right. Harry's green, wet eyes are holding onto his words like his life depends on it. "How are we going to do this?" Harry asks, voice showing his vulnerability.

Louis shrugs inside the embrace, "Just let it happen, people will find out eventually." He can tell that a list of "what if's" is running through Harry's mind. He recognizes it in the concerned frown and the biting on his own lips. "We'll be alright, Haz."

Harry locks his gaze on the man, and nods shortly. "We will." He grins, and then his eyes are pleading again. "Kiss me, Lou,"

Louis complies then, and when they fall asleep that night, they're wrapped around one another a bit tighter and closer than usual. 


	13. Chapter 13

It's a Friday, late afternoon, when Louis comes back home from work and finds a sight that he isn't expecting at all.

He's glad that Harry managed to convince his manager into letting him stay at bis apartment for another two weeks - after much insistence from Louis himself - until he has to return to his busy schedule. He's even more glad when he opens the door and sees Harry appearing from the bedroom wearing a bright and hopeful smile, along with a colored, stamped blouse and dark jeans that accentuated his long legs. He looked ready to go out.

"Oh, Haz," Louis sings, closing his apartment door and glancing at the man up and down. "Looking good," He praises. Harry chuckles and does a little twirl, which Louis finds incredibly endearing. "Where you heading to?" Louis questions.

The singer approaches and laces his arms around Louis' shoulders, eyes half-parted in a romantic glance. The smaller man swallows a lump in his throat. Harry looked _too good_ with his hair down and long strands loose, chocolate-colored curls reaching half of his neck. "The question is, where are _we_ going,"

Louis' brows furrow in confusion. He presses a quick kiss on Harry's lips, and almost gasps when he realizes he was wearing on a thin coat of strawberry lip-gloss. "And where are _we_ going?" He repeats the question to Harry's amusement, tongue poking out and tasting the sweetness.

"On a date." The singer replies, head tilted. "You have no say in the matter," He completes jokingly, shooting him a dimpled grin.

"I'm not complaining." He really wasn't.

Louis feels hypnotized once again, like it's the first time. He forgets about his boring day, the unfortunate encounters with rude costumers and annoying banters with staff members. All that matters then is the singer that's pressing him against the closed door and kissing him through the smell of roasted coffee that still lingers his clothes.

He's positive that Harry will be the death of him.

When Harry - or rather, Harry's driver - takes him to the same bar in which they had their first date, Louis thinks that Harry's up to something.

They arrive and the place is unusually quiet and unlit, almost as if it's closed. They step out on the street, surrounded by security and body guards. Louis glances around and his grip on Harry's hand tightens. He remembers the last time he's been there, and it feels like it happened yesterday; the nervousness in his stomach mixed with disbelief of the situation, the cozy atmosphere and Harry's warm embrace on his frame in the balcony upstairs.

A man lets the pair in, much to Louis' confusion. The place is, indeed, closed. There's no one inside, and he thinks no one is allowed in, _expect_ for himself and Harry.

 _Harry._ He has a bright smile on as he guides them inside the empty bar, lit in dimmed warm-colored lights.

"Harry-" Louis mutters because he doesn't know what else to say. It's wonderful, the ambient they're in and the nostalgia that hits him. It feels so long ago, and yet, so recent. He feels like he's known Harry since forever and also feels like he has yet so much to discover about him.

The taller man pulls him close just as the door shuts behind them. Louis grins; they're _alone_ now. "I rented the bar for the night. For _us._ "

A song begins to play inside the empty place, soft guitar chords echoing through the space. Louis still haven't found his words as Harry's pulling delicately on his waist towards the dance-floor. He notices drinks prepared on the counters in the bar at the back and can't help but wonder what kind of mystery the night is holding, and what Harry has in mind.

He doesn't know, but he's certain he'll take it.

There's a four-lettered word lingering the back of his mind when Harry places his palm on his shoulder, and grasps his other hand, lacing their fingers together. "We have a lot of space to dance now," Harry whispers amid the song, and Louis is convinced that this, once again, isn't real, that he's living in a dream.

He loves the way Harry's dancing and leading their gentle movements, like he always does, but this time in a real dance-floor instead of a small kitchen. "You're so extra, but I like it," Louis comments, making the singer throw his head back and laugh softly. He survives the urge to devour the column of his throat, and instead, plants a sweet kiss on the skin that his unbuttoned blouse allowed to expose.

"I am, but this is more than just that," Harry chuckles, eyes locking into Louis'. The song is slow, matching their swaying feet. "You deserve a big gesture."

Louis shakes his head, smiling, and he feels drunk, despite not having one millilitre of alcohol in his blood. Yet. "I don't think I'll ever be able to beat this," He jokes.

Harry leans forward and touches their foreheads together. "You already beat everything else just by being _you_ , _"_ Harry praises sweetly, voice so quiet that Louis could only hear it due to their proximity. "Dance with me,"

So Louis does.

Songs keep playing one after the other, slow and romantic acoustics vibrating the decorated walls. Louis' swinging along with Harry, hands having a dance of their own through shoulders and waists, discovering hidden treasures under every touch. The eventual stepping on feet and uncoordinated tangling limbs turns into laughter, that turns into kisses, that becomes another song, another dance.

He's certain that he could do this for the rest of his life, _with Harry,_ and he would never feel the need to anything else.

They only break apart to get the drinks prepared on the bar. Of course, Louis jumps over the counter and pretends to be a bartender as a joke, handling bottles comically and relentlessly flirting with Harry, except that part was not much of a joke, only. Music is still playing when Harry's pulling Louis to the familiar stairway, and it comes to him that the singer had probably made a _playlist_ for the occasion. He planned this out.

He _planned_ it.

Then it hits him.

Louis realizes what Harry is, most likely, about to do.

And it makes him smile.

When they reach the upstairs space, it's empty as well, the lights are low, his heart is beating fast under the influence of Harry. Louis pulls him close then, eagerly kissing him as if he's an addiction he can't get enough of. He's quite sure that he is. "I made something. In the balcony." Harry whispers between the pecks.

Louis' eyes light up and only Harry can see it. He guides Louis to the open area that leads to the balcony, and there it is.

A thin sheet covers the ground. There's flowers that Louis doesn't remember decorating the rims of the railings, the last time he was there. Manchester is bright and alive in front of them, the view opening up a blooming feeling in Louis' chest. He's struck with so many emotions that he doesn't feel Harry pulling him closer by the hand, then guiding them over the sheet and sitting down.

Everything around him is so entirely _Harry_ that he's almost painfully overwhelmed.

Harry's voice numbs him altogether, pulling him back into the moment. "I know, it's extra. This place is special though." Louis glances at the singer, and doesn't find any reason why he shouldn't be the happiest man alive then. "Do I deserve an extra kiss?"

Louis leans in, unhesitating, drinking in all the senses of Harry's touch, his warmth and angelic aura. "You deserve everything." He whispers, sure that the whole city can hear him.

"I already have it. Right here, in front of me." Harry smiles and Louis feels blood rushing up his face. "You're blushing. Mission accomplished."

"Shut up," He grins back.

A wine bottle and two wine glasses stand in the corner of the fabric; Louis had been too distracted to notice it until Harry moves to grasp the objects, opening the bottle and serving them the red-tinted drink. Louis notices that music is still playing downstairs, muffled underneath them. Harry tilts the container of the alcohol over the glass, smiling as Louis holds it. "I remember our first date," He begins and Louis feels the urge to stand up and dance with him again. "I was so, so nervous."

Louis raises his eyebrows. "Really?" Harry nods with a smile. He pours the wine gracefully. "Thought I was the only one losing my shit."

"You weren't," They chuckle. "I was surprised that you even agreed to go out with me, and when you did, you treated me like a person," Louis looks up and he can tell that it means a lot to Harry. He can feel the vulnerability in his words. "You heard my stories and shared yours too, everything about you was always so genuine. I never felt unsure with you."

"Harry," Louis mutters. The glasses are filled. Harry finds stars and city lights on Louis' eyes. "I can't believe you did all this and that I get to see you, kiss you, and _be with you_ every day. You make me feel safe too, more than I've ever felt in my life. Even when we're apart."

If the sight before him wasn't so stunning, Harry's sure that he'd be crying. He raises one of the glasses, offers it to Louis and locks their gazes.

"To us, then?" Harry says, secure on his words. Manchester is loud and busy in the atmosphere, but none of them can hear it, focused on the rhythm of each other's rushed heartbeats instead.

Louis raises his glass too and cheers, a lovely smile playing on his lips. "To us."

Time passes and the night runs, holding laughs and passionate kisses in secrecy. Louis' tipsy by the red wine that tints their lips and by everything that relates to Harry and his intoxicating smile. Louis feels the muscles of his cheeks tugging and aching slightly by how much he's smiling too. It's all Harry's fault.

"Lou," Harry mumbles, slurring with the wine and adoration. "You're so beautiful. How can you be so wonderful?"

Louis laughs out loud, his mind taking in the compliments and the four-lettered word is floating back to the surface. They're lying down now, the empty bottle long forgotten on the side of the sheet. Harry is gesturing to random stars and giving them names, stupid names, silly names, all to make Louis' laugh. He never fails.

"If I'm so wonderful, you should name a star after me."

Harry is silent for a second. Louis glances aside where Harry's curls are beautifully spread, where he lays his head. Then, he points up. "That one." Louis looks. "The brightest one. I knew the real name of it, but I forgot. Doesn't matter, it's called Louis now."

Louis' smaller hand comes up to grasp Harry's. Their fingers lace together while the stars shine behind, the scene making him believe that Harry's magic is real. "You'd be the moon, then, huh? The most beautiful. Always shining bright."

Harry's low chuckle echos and then there's a comfortable silence around them. Louis closes his eyes and enjoys the dance of their hands together, feels Harry rolling his body and pressing a kiss to his cheek, driving up to his mouth. He kisses back without hesitation. It feels sweet and the stars are there to witness the moment where Louis loses every bit of fear he's ever gathered in his lifetime.

"I want you to be my boyfriend," Harry mutters, lips grazing his.

Louis slits his eyelids open. Green eyes are there to help his way through the darkness of the night above them. "I want that too." Is all that Louis can say, while his mind is yelling that that he doesn't just want it, he _craves it,_ he needs the feeling of giving everything to Harry. He wants to be his boyfriend, his home, his only love, because that is what Harry feels to him. He would give him the world and the moon too, if he had it. Without a doubt.

A dimpled smile come into view for the thousandth time that night, but if feels new and unique. Harry's beaming underneath the skyline. He opens his lips to say something, but stops himself, and Louis doesn't push it. Everything is written in his eyes, legible, tangible words, floating around the emerald paradise.

They make it back to Louis' apartment a couple hours later, after the private driver had his share of chuckles watching the newly couple stumble their way into the car. Louis is quick to head to his kitchen and grab water for both of them, wanting to avoid the wine-headache in the morning early on. "Here, love," Louis gives the water to Harry, who's peeling off his clothes shamelessly as he's entering the bathroom in Louis' bedroom.

"Thanks, boyfriend," He mumbles and they chuckle in unison. Harry's been saying that for hours now, and something tells Louis that he won't stop for the next few days. It's just _Harry._ "Shower with me?" He asks, and obviously, Louis doesn't fail to comply.

When they exit the bathroom, they're all over each other.

Steam is floating into the bedroom and Louis' hands are gripping Harry's waist with enough force to bruise, and yet it feels incredibly sweet. Harry loves the way that he's kissing him, all lips and teeth and tongue smoothing over the surface of his damp skin and tattoos. Something about the hunger in Louis' touch is endearing, almost paradoxical, how he wants to take it all and offer everything too, multiplied by sensations that only he has been able to give Harry.

Towels were long forgotten in the bathroom's counters, tossed aside when Louis first started touching Harry with intent. He can't get enough, neither of them really can.

"Louis, please," Harry's whispering, bathing the apartment with delicious moans that escape his mouth every time Louis' lips are on his throat. "Please," He doesn't know what he's begging for, but he knows Louis will give it to him, no matter what.

The smaller man pushes him back into his bed slowly, lying him on the mattress and pulling away from his collarbones only to say; "What is it, darling?" Harry loses his breath for a second. Louis is on top of him with incredibly dangerous eyes that make him want to melt and yell, announce the world that he's more than gone for the man.

"Make love to me," Harry pleas, silently demanding. Louis smiles and kisses him again, more passionately this time. Harry's brain clicks in place amid the haziness of the moment and he remembers. Louis' never done it all the way before with another man. "I-If you want to, I can-"

"Hey," Louis interrupts, gazing deeply into his features. Louis feels blessed, the most beautiful man in the world is pinned underneath him with lips parted in pleasure, body pliant and a hard-on between them. "Relax, love. I'll make love to you. I'm here, you're here, it's all that matters," Louis' hips press down a bit, touching their erections together, putting emphasis into his words. He might not be making much sense, but his answer fits in right for them.

It's all that Harry needs, and then he's slipping back into intense emotions and physical bliss, into another universe where Louis touches him and feeds off his pleasure, insatiably. Louis' hands are gentle and fast, dancing across his skin and opening up secrets.

Harry's sure that Louis will be the death of him.

Louis skillfully wraps his hand around their erections, joining their sensations all at once. They moan in unison, the silence of the night drinking in the sounds, swallowing the reactions like a black hole. Louis' learning fast by now, picking up the courage more and more every day that Harry's been in his apartment, growing accustomed with sexual touches. Nothing more than hand-jobs and blowjobs, until then.

Tonight, Louis is offering all that he's never had. He's watching Harry's eyes glow and his pupils widen as he touches him, grinds against him, and finally, finds his way down where they'll eventually meet. Harry is sensitive, bowing his long, lean body up and arching off the bed at every sensation that shoots through him, all caused by Louis' ministrations. His cock is leaking, hard and curved against his stomach, while the smaller man is over him in control of his pleasure.

"There's lube, in the-" Harry points to the nightstand's only drawer, and Louis reaches out to grab it with an amused grin.

He finds strawberry scented lube and condoms. "I wonder who put that there," Louis smiles.

"Guilty." Harry beams, lying there awaiting. Louis wants to devour him. Harry _knows_ and gets off on it.

When Louis bows over his body again, there's intent. There's a desperation from both, a lustful rush, accompanied by inexperienced fingers working Harry open. Louis is worriedly glancing back at the singer, carefully watching his reactions and trying to find any signs of discomfort in his beautifully-carved features.

He doesn't find it, and Harry's words are assuring. "You're not hurting me, keep going," He moans, drawing out his words in pleasure. It's enough to fuel Louis into driving his fingers deeper, exploring with care, watching the taller man slowly begin to fall apart under him. His long legs are up and almost wrapped around his smaller frame; he wants to drown in the sensations and he wants to get trapped in those long limbs, only to never be let out again.

Harry feels tight and hot around his digits, and although Louis is trying his hardest to focus completely on Harry now, he can't help but wonder how it will feel around him. He groans when he twists his fingers in a certain way and Harry's legs twitch, letting out a helpless whimper. "Oh, L-Lou, right there, fuck-"

Louis isn't clueless about what he just done. He loves Harry's reaction, the way his body is twisting and stretching in the warm desire, a thin coat of sweat glistening his broad chest. He rubs his fingers against his prostate again, drawing more whimpers out of the man.

Harry prompts up on his elbows, wanting to watch Louis working over him with hungry, blue eyes. "Need you, want you inside me now, _please,"_

Louis nods and ignores the electricity that runs through his own cock as he listens to the melodies of Harry's sweet words. "Just a bit more, yeah? One more, promise-"

He doesn't know what he's promising, but Harry nods regardless. He eases in another finger, now working three digits inside the man and avoiding the prostate, brushing over it only a few more times before he's scissoring him open carefully, then pulling his fingers out. Harry lets out a satisfied moan as he observes Louis' hands working a condom over his cock, applying more lube and stroking himself gently. He licks his lips, amazed by the vision of Louis' tattooed arms pulling his legs over his shoulders. He looks beautiful and he's certain that the man is, indeed, the brightest star in sight.

"Alright?" Louis asks, his chest wavering with rushes, lustful breaths. "Tell me if anything-"

"Yes, don't worry Lou." Harry smiles. "I'm good, need you now-"

Louis nods, kissing him sweetly, one arm holding himself up as the other lowers down to grasp his own cock and carefully slip inside Harry. The singer's moaning loudly, feeling the member stretch him deliciously with a twinge of pain and burning sensation that he particularly enjoys, adding up to his overwhelming need for Louis.

"Oh my _God,_ Harry-" Louis groans, eyes fluttering closed and rolling back at the tightness of Harry's body. It's amazing and intimate, their hips flushing together; he can feel himself drowning once again, and it's all Harry's fault. The singer's hands are stroking up his arms, fingertips driving to his ribs and scratching slightly, encouraging him to move. "You alright?" Louis whispers, panting as if he's suffocating.

"Feels so good, Lou," Harry whimpers, bottoming out, curls dancing on the pillowcase. He feels like he's dreaming, light-headed and full of Louis, completely. "Feel so good inside me,"

Louis moans again, working his muscles to pick his hips up. He thrusts slowly back and in again, drawing opportunities for Harry to moan and whimper. The singer is patient and enjoys himself, watching and feeling everything out as Louis explores his body, experiments with the slow thrusts of his hips. It's amazing to see, Louis' eyes closed and concentrated, trying his best not to lose himself in the feeling.

However, Harry wants him to.

"You can go faster, Lou," He mumbles, and when Louis glances at him almost as if about to ask for reassurance, he adds; _"Please,"_

Louis is lost, then.

He's down at the bottom of the ocean, swimming in the darkness and finding light in Harry's parted eyes and wine-tinted lips. He mouths at Harry's tattooed collarbones as he drives his hips faster, picking up the pace and setting a rhythm that draws the prettiest noises out of the singer. They're on fire, setting up flames in Louis' apartment and tumbling all the walls down, but it's warm and comforting, and it feels _too good._

Louis shifts his angle slightly and when he pushes back in, Harry's face twists in undeniable pleasure and his eyes water, gathering up tears that run down his temples. " _Fuck,_ right there, don't stop Louis-" He talks and Louis consumes all the words and the noises. He's devouring it.

Louis never wants to stop. "That's it, love," He whispers, driving his cock deeper into the man, feeling the bundle of nerves nudging against the head of his member, continuously pressing. He looks down and can't help but feel the need to cry himself, watching Harry fall apart piece by piece, limbs pliant and open, receiving everything that Louis has and asking for more. He's certain that he will give it all to Harry, shamelessly, until he has nothing left. "You're so beautiful, feel so good around me, so tight,"

To Harry, Louis' low tone and erratic breathing match up well with the sounds of his continuous thrusts. Louis lowers his head and plants his lips on Harry's jawline, absorbing every bit of magic that has escaped his skin. "Can't believe you're mine," Louis moans.

"I'm all yours, I belong to you, _fuck-"_ Harry says with a high tone. Louis feels breathless but his hips never fail to work, thrusting mercilessly, until; "L-Louis, you're gonna make me _fucking come,"_

Louis groans loudly at that, feeling his own high begin to curl up his stomach. He looks down and sees that Harry's cock is lying forgotten and inviting; one of his hands leave the side of Harry's head and moves to stroke his leaking erection, and that is what pushes him over the edge rapidly.

"Louis! Baby, I'm-"

He never gets to finish his sentence, drowned inside his own sea of sensations. It feels like it's too much and not enough at the same time, the warmth of his orgasm washing over him with the pressure on his prostate, waves sharply rushing up his navel. He comes hard, ropes of semen drawing patters on his torso.

It only takes a few more erratic thrusts and then Louis is coming too, spilling inside the condom and lost within the ocean of Harry's body, the tightness that brings him to reach his high. His vision brightens, spots that look like stars dancing behind his eyelids.

"Lou,"

He opens his eyes, following the voice. Harry's arms are around him then, legs drawing him closer. He pulls out slowly, his sensitive cock dragging out the sensation and making him hiss quietly. He props down beside Harry on the small bed, bodies incredibly close. It takes everything in his bones to stand up and grab a cloth in the bathroom, remove the condom out of him and toss it away, then come back and wipe Harry clean.

The tall man is a bit lost, his vision is cloudy, until Louis lies back down by his side.

"Hm," He hums, arms immediately engulfing Louis' frame. Green eyes flutter open. "Hi."

He smiles and chuckles, feeling safe and relieved underneath the singer's touch and gaze. "Hey love, how are you feeling?"

"Amazing, you?" Harry mumbles.

"Couldn't be better," And it's true.

Louis plays with Harry's curls until the singer falls asleep, his tall body flush against him, a thin blanket covering their bare skins. Louis doesn't know what time it is, but he guesses that it's close to sunrise, by the way that birds are beginning to sing and chirp outside. He lets his mind wonder about their long night, and to notice how tired - yet, so alive - he feels.

He is light and afloat, body lost within itself, Harry's dormant limbs holding him, being his anchor.

The waves are soft, the sea is calm. The four-lettered word washes up on the shore, exposed to the sunlight, stuck in the sand.

_Love._

He realizes he loves Harry, just before he falls asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Everything changed after one interview.

When Harry asked Louis days before their special night, the answer was _yes._

"Can I tell 'em I have a boyfriend in that interview on Wednesday? If get asked about it." He remembers Harry questioning, his head lying on top of Louis' thighs on the couch, curls decorating his lap.

It was a thoughtful, unhesitating, "Yes."

He knew storms were about to come, the world was on it's tip-toes, dancing around Louis and the subject of their relationship. However, he wasn't scared anymore, despite the warmth in his gut every once in a while that told him that maybe he should be. He ignored it, tired of letting his insecurities and hesitations take away the good things he has in his life. In that case, Harry and his wonderful magic.

Wednesday came, Louis was at the coffee shop. He managed to wear one earbud, listening to Harry's interview while he worked quietly behind the counters. It was going well and normal, until the infamous question arrives;

_"So, Harry, how's been your stay at Manchester? You're not in any hotels, as far as everyone knows, people are speculating that you have a girlfriend living here,"_

Louis cringes at the question. He doesn't understand how it seems acceptable to ask something that invasive and private, and do it while thousands of people are listening. He's heard Harry talking about how it annoys him sometimes, and how he has felt the urge to simply walk away in the middle of an interview a couple of times. But, he knows Harry's grown used to it; he _knew_ that he was going to be questioned about his whereabouts - which, in Louis' opinion, was quite creepy - and that's why he had asked Louis before.

Louis' heart was pounding as he heard the reply that came from the very familiar voice;

_"Ahn, yes, I'm not in a hotel, it's easier and better to be at my boyfriend's place instead,"_

Louis could already imagine the headlines, the newsflash and the click-baits. He could imagine the fans, either pleased to know about Harry's non-heterosexuality, or disappointed by it. He thought about Harry's eyes, beaming despite the invasion of the interview, because he didn't need to lie anymore. Louis smiled through his shift and heard the interviewer stutter, shocked at the reply. It was even better when he heard Harry's chuckles and imagined his smile.

Towards the end, the radio worker requested lastly; _"Is your boyfriend listening? Do you have a message for him? What's his name, by the way?"_

 _"He is, probably. His name's Louis."_ Harry pauses. _"Hi boyfriend, hope you're having a good day at work, I'll see you later tonight and, ahn, yeah, I miss you a just a little bit, already."_

Louis smiled hugely and ignored a few odd looks he was getting from costumers.

He did saw him later that night, kissed him and made love to him again, because words weren't enough.

Louis felt on top of the world, and the world now knew that Harry was his.

Niall's traditional Sunday visit wasn't interrupted by Harry's presence.

In fact, he was more than excited to meet Harry again, this time, as Louis' boyfriend. However, Louis believed that Harry was even more nervous than Niall himself, overthinking about making a good impression on Louis' best mate.

"Haz, he already likes you. He was the one that bought meet and greet tickets to see you, remember?" Louis said reassuringly, watching Harry pace around the apartment, testing at least three different t-shirts and cleaning the couch and the coffee table twice. Although it was amusing and adoring to see the effort Harry was putting into being a part of Louis' life, including his not very extensive social life, he didn't like to watch the singer wearing himself out in uneasiness.

"I know, but this time is different." Harry sighed, standing in the living room.

Louis approached and embraced him warmly. "You don't have to worry, love. Niall is the weirdest, but chillest guy you'll meet. Also, he's funny, and Irish, so, you'll have to drink his beer to win his heart." He said, chuckles bubbling up Harry's chest. He loves to see him smile.

Louis wasn't wrong.

Niall showed up on time, for Louis' surprise, and made himself comfortable in Louis' place as he usually did, despite Harry's presence. He wasn't expecting Niall and Harry to link up so easily, but he feels like he should have seen it coming; they did have a similar sense of humor, being able to laugh at basically anything and make jokes that were so bad that they were good, somehow. It was endearing to see, his favorite people in the world reunited in the comfort of his apartment, drinking their favorite cheap brand of beer and sharing stories.

He felt blessed and the happiest he's ever been.

And once again, it was all Harry's fault.

"What's Ireland like?" The singer questions, sipping on the cold beer. His knee lies on top of Louis' leg, even if the couch was big enough to comfort the three of them. Louis isn't complaining, though.

Niall shrugs. "S'cozy, not very big. Mild temperatures. All the stereotypes about our drinking has a bit of truth, by the way."

Harry chuckles. "I couldn't really tell," He sips the beer again. Niall and Louis laugh then, and Louis can notice by the way Harry's slurring his words a bit, that he's getting tipsy. Of course, the tall man is a lightweight. It's very _Harry._

"You never went to Ireland? Thought you'd have been everywhere in the world." Niall asks.

Harry ponders for a moment. "I've been to Dublin a couple of times, but didn't stay for long."

"You should go to Mullingar, it's the best place on Earth." Niall says, and Louis laughs.

Conversations and activities run wild until the end of the afternoon when the Irish lad leaves, much to Harry's dismay. "I liked him. He's cool, and funny."

Louis kisses his dimpled cheek as they clean the kitchen, dirty by Niall's failed attempt at baking, which Harry had saved and finished it perfectly. Louis is sure that Niall will come back just to eat Harry's cooking. "I told you it'd be all right. But don't like him too much, I get jealous easily." He jokes.

Harry smiles. "Of me or him?"

Louis shoots him a glance. "Of him, obviously."

They laugh in unison, Harry lifts his foam-covered hands and touches the tip of Louis' nose.

It's easy for Louis to see, the clarity and the happiness of simple moments. Harry is his home, certainly.

It doesn't take more than a week for the fans to figure it out.

Every morning, Louis wakes up with his phone filled with notifications, mostly from a huge quantity of followers popping up on his Instagram account. It doesn't help that his username has his actual name on it, and it also doesn't help that most of his pictures include places in Manchester. He's puzzled by how people were finding out about him, despite no actual evidence or proof linking him to Harry in any way.

He wonders if fans that saw him back at the hotel maybe recognized him from the pictures in his account. He tries to think of moments where people saw them together. But them again, Harry's security and other staff were aware of their relationship before Harry had confirmed it on the radio.

He's overthinking everything, trying to understand, and it's barely seven in the morning yet.

Harry rolls in bed, pulling Louis back onto the mattress and taking his phone out of his hands. Louis chuckles at the man's sleepy mannerisms. "Stop worrying and come back in bed with me." He commands, tone slurred and rough from sleep.

"I'm sorry, love," Louis lies down, taking Harry into his embrace, enjoying the warmth before he has to actually get up again and go to work.

Eventually, they leave the comfortable cuddle and have breakfast, tired bodies bathing in the sunlight that begins to creep inside the apartment. "I'm going to see my mom today, gonna take a quick trip to London." Harry informs, a small smile tugging his coffee-stained lips.

Louis can't help but grin back. "That's good, love. Bet she misses you."

"I miss her more, been a few weeks since I've seen her."

Louis thinks about his own mother. He ponders quietly while they eat, recalling the last day he's seen her, almost two years ago. He wonders if she would recognize him, what would she think of all the tattoos he got and what kind of reaction she would have to know that he's living in a quite decent place. He had talked to her about five months prior, on his birthday at the end of December. He misses her, but it hurts to admit it to himself, so he doesn't.

"Louis?" Harry calls.

Louis gets out of his thoughts and glances up at the man, sipping his own tea. "Yeah? Sorry, got a bit lost,"

"Worrying about the Instagram thing again?"

"No, ahn, doesn't matter," He pushes the subject away, and although he can see in Harry's eyes that the singer wants to ask what is it and why he seems upset, he doesn't. He wonders if he's pushing Harry away as well. The thought hurts him too much to keep his words from drowning down throat. "I was thinking about my mom too."

"Oh," Harry mumbles, "Wanna talk about it?" He doesn't know all about Louis' struggle with reconnecting with his family, but he's heard that there's a few issues, maybe too personal to be discussed.

Louis breathes, finds peace in Harry's green paradise, his reassuring eyes. Louis always gets an urge to let go and share subjects that damages his mental health during the weirdest times. When they're dancing in the kitchen and Louis tells Harry that he, unknowingly, helped him to accept his own sexuality. When they're showering and Louis opens up about feeling frigid during his teenage years, his inability to connect with someone sexually until Harry came along.

And now, when they're having breakfast, and Louis wants to talk about his family and their problems. He's thankful that Harry loves to listen. "My mom doesn't know I'm gay. No one knows besides Niall, and you, obviously."

Harry nods slowly, finishing his coffee with empathetic eyes.

Louis finds his gaze stuck on the wooden-table's irregular patterns. He sighs and continues; "She probably won't have a problem with it. But she still didn't support me when I moved out of Doncaster and told me that I'd be lost, that nothing would ever work and nothing that I tried to do would go the way I wanted." He pauses, Harry listens quietly, hands moving on top of the table to grasp Louis'. His thumb caress Harry's hand and he proceeds; "My dad will probably hate my guts if he finds out. He already doesn't like me anyways. He never cared to reach out, either. I haven't spoken to him in almost two years."

Louis hates the way his chest aches. He hates the feeling, the realization that one of his parents don't love him enough to care for him, and the other one loves him so much that it's suffocating, in the worst way. It's a lonely feeling.

"I'm sorry about all of this," Harry mutters sincerely. Louis grins at the man, saddened by the frown in his features. "You don't deserve to feel this way, this abandonment,"

He swallows. "It sucks, but, yeah. It made me who I am, didn't it?"

"Do you love who you are?"

Harry always made the deepest questions too. Louis ponders, thinking of an honest answer. He finds it in his cold tea and under Harry's fingertips. "I don't know if I love myself all the way. But, I know I'm going in the right direction to do so."

"How come?" Harry requests.

"I'm allowing myself to open up more. I'd never let myself tell you all these things, or anyone for this instance." He breathes. Sunlight is beaming on Harry's bed-head. He looks like an angel with a halo. "I'm starting to realize that I deserve good things, too."

To that, Harry smiles hugely. "That's a good step forward."

Louis finishes the conversation with a coffee-tasting kiss, before he changes and goes to work a bit lighter than he's used to.

When he returns home, Harry's not there. It startles him for a minute, the lack of noise and footsteps approaching the door and the warm, welcoming kisses. He remembers that Harry went to London to see his mother, and breathes relieved when he gets a message from the singer telling him that he'll be back in a couple of hours. Louis uses the time alone to shower and prepare dinner.

He sits in the living room and notices he's immensely tired, his petite body stretched on the couch and his eyes threatening to fall shut. He flickers through his phone and reads Harry's message over, grinning to himself inside the quiet, lonesome apartment. He misses him, already.

It still stuns him the fact that he has someone; he's grown used to being alone and feeling lonely for so long that being in a relationship where he genuinely cares and _loves_ his partner feels like an illusion. He realizes that he'll be miserable next week, after Harry leaves again, and the cold silence takes over. The plants around him listen to his thoughts, leafs feeding off his concerns, already drowning him again, chest submerging in warm anxiety.

His phone buzzes on his lap. It's Harry, another text.

_"Be there in fourty minutes. How's things over there? Miss you."_

Louis doesn't respond immediately, but and sits up on the couch instead. His fingers feel gelid, shaking, and he's going through his contact's list.

He thinks about what he said to Harry that he deserves good things. He's starting to believe it's not true. He's hating himself for working up his mind so quickly, overthinking to the point of adrenaline taking away all his tiredness and replacing it with uneasiness and nerve-wracking concerns that he shouldn't have then.

He looks at the list, flickering his thumb. He taps on an specific contact.

_Mom._

He shouldn't call her, he thinks. She will pick up and he will have nothing to say at all, at least, nothing that she would like to hear.

It's involuntary, though.

His finger taps on the number, and soon, he's calling her, the noise of the continuous ringing exploding fireworks inside of him, but not the good kind. These are the loud ones, hot sparks burning, igniting a fire deep within his bones. He's shaking when the the ringing stops, an unknown noise echos, and then there's a voice.

_"Louis?"_

It's her, and it's so familiar that Louis doesn't recognize it for a second. It's distant and shallow, the way his heart feels. He's not sure if it's beating anymore. "H-hey, mom,"

There's a little gasp on the other end of the line. Louis doesn't know if he should feel relieved or worried about her surprised reaction. _"Oh! Hi darling, it's been so long since you've called,"_

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry," He tucks his phone in his ear and lets his head down. The floor is swaying under his feet although he is sitting down.

_"It's alright. How are you? How's Eleanor?"_

He regrets calling her at that very instance. The memory of his ex-girlfriend was so distant and faded that it feels like he's been living another life all this time. He sighs, trying to gather enough oxygen to let his words out; "Ahn, things are good. Besides Eleanor, we broke up a few months ago."

_"Oh, I'm sorry darling, did anything bad happened?"_

He wants to tell her. He wants the secret gone, the facts to become just that; facts. However, his throat feels dry and his limbs aren't working properly. "No, nothing bad, just, you know, things don't always work out." _Nothing is ever going to work out._ Maybe she did warn him. He feels disappointed in himself then. His eyes are shut tightly as if he's about to take a hit, a punch to the face, but he's just listening to his mother's voice over the phone and he doesn't feel comfort, doesn't feel safety. "Anyways, just wanted to, ahn, know how you're doing,"

He hears his mother sighing lightly and it adds to his sadness. She must feel lonely too. _"_ _I'm alright, I've been working a lot lately, but it's good. Keeping myself busy, yeah?"_

"Innit," It's a trait that he definitely got from her. "You must be tired then, I'll let you go rest now, mom. Just wanted to do quick check."

There's a pause. _"Good night, Louis. You can call anytime you want, you know that, right?"_

"I know. Good night, mom."

When the calls ends, Louis doesn't cry, but he curls his body up. He knows he can always call, and that's why it hurts. Because he won't call. He never does, until his breathing feels shallow and he needs a physical proof that he's alive, one that's not the best. He feels terrible for his mother, although she did break his heart with just words, but he can't help the thought that, most likely, he broke hers too. Like he broke Eleanor's.

He's terrified when he overthinks. He would never forgive himself if he broke Harry's heart too.

It's too much, too many thoughts all at once, and the apartment is too silent for him to bare. He wants to scream, and he wants to rip his skin apart until there's nothing in him but damaged bones. His breathing begins to fail, falling erratic, and that's when he cries. Tears are blurring his vision and he feels glad; he doesn't want to see anything, feel anything. He wants to disappear, forget about the overwhelming worries of his brain.

Violent waves from an angry, cold sea aren't letting him breath. He's having a panic attack.

He recognizes it, by the way his voice is breaking as he cries quietly and the shaking of his hands, fingers grasping his own upper arms to tightly that he's sure he'll have bruises in the morning. His vision is darkening, and then there's a noise that echos inside his brain, but he doesn't process it. He doesn't notice when Harry arrives until a large pair of hands are on him, lacing around his shoulders tenderly and pulling him closer.

"Louis," He hears the voice, muffled, far away. His body collides inside Harry's embrace, where he finds warmth. "Louis, please talk to me, what happened?" Harry's tone is almost desperate, barely holding it together. He feels bad for the singer holding him like he's about to have his last breathe. "You're all right, Lou, I'm here. I'm not leaving. Breathe with me, okay?"

Like an anchor, Harry's tight arms around him and his heartbeat against Louis' ear feels familiar, feels like home. He manages to get his breathing under control after a few minutes, he's light-headed and hazy still, his mind coming back to focus on his surroundings, grounding himself completely after he looks up and finds Harry glancing down at him with a concerned expression.

He feels like he overreacted, that he shouldn't have freaked out like that and lost complete touch with reality. He gathers strength on the muscles of his throat and manages to mutter; "I'm sorry,"

Harry shakes his head. "No, no, don't apologize." The singer's hand moves to cup his face, fingers melting within his cheekbones and stroking the humidity under his eyes. Louis grins, still shaking. "Do you wanna talk?" Harry offers, and it makes Louis' heart flutter. It's the tone of his voice, so worried and yet so controlled, where he doesn't feel guilty for the attack anymore.

He nods and Harry waits the minutes he needs to get his breathing back to normal. "I-I called my mom," He stutters.

The taller man continues to hold him, glancing through his features as if looking for sights of another attack. He doesn't find any. "And? Was it bad?"

"No. It was normal." Louis swallows. "But still, it hurts."

He almost cries again, but Harry's too beautiful, sitting there and holding him, curls framing his face delicately, soft chocolate strands against sharp cheekbones and pink lips. He kisses Harry then, humming at the sensations that explode inside of him, this time, the best type of fireworks. Colorful and celebratory, sparks that burns in a good way.

Harry kisses him back slowly and pulls away, looking into Louis' blue eyes. "Are you going to be okay?"

There's desperation in Harry's tone, and that pulls Louis back into reality completely. "I will now." He hugs the singer a bit tighter, and manages to feel himself again.

When the tension leaves, Harry tells him all about his visit to his mother and how he had fun with her and also his sister, who happened to be in London too. He completely loses himself in Harry's voice as he tells the tales of his day, enjoying the calm after the chaos.

It's late when they lie in bed together, tangled in the positions that they're used to, molding themselves inside the tight space and not complaining one bit. Louis' eyes are closed, he's warm underneath the blankets, long legs wrapping around him, when he hears a mumble;

"Lou?"

"Hm?"

"I told my mom about you," Harry informs, a bit hesitant. Louis still doesn't open his eyes but he can feel Harry's gaze on him. "She already knew that I had someone, from the radio interview, but I told her about who you were and showed pictures of us. She thinks you're lovely. She wants to meet you."

Somehow, that doesn't make Louis nervous at all. Then, he looks at him. He can identify in the words floating in Harry's eyes that it's something important for him. So, he responds; "I'm glad, love. When are we meeting then?"

It's all smiles and kisses from there; the singer seems so happy and excited that Louis thinks they won't be able to have any proper sleep whatsoever. It's for a good reason, though, and he wouldn't have it in any other way.


	15. Chapter 15

Meeting Anne is sweet.

Going to London on a Saturday morning, hopping on car with a private driver and spending almost four hours stuck inside a vehicle with Harry feels sweet as well, despite the harsh change in their routine. The roads are surprisingly pleasant and Harry's company is, as always, recharging for Louis. He learns that the driver is a funny lad as well, spending most of his time exchanging conversation with the worker.

He's convinced that everyone around Harry has been affected by his magic. Anne, however, is the one that shows him where Harry's kind heart and bright soul came from.

She's charming and treats Louis with such tenderness from the start, that he begins to understand why Harry is the way he is. The woman is lovely, her house is filled with plants and artwork; there's at least two cats hanging around, soft meows echoing and fuzzy tails coming to rub up on Louis' ankles every once in a while.

"Harry told me somethings about you, Louis," She says, voice smooth and gentle and she offers him a cuppa. It's the most delicious tea that Louis has ever tasted in his life.

"Good things, I hope," He grins, and Anne's beaming smile appears.

She chuckles as she takes a seat in front of him on the glass table in her backyard, the area beautifully decorated. Harry is on the floor, sitting cross-legged and petting the cats. Louis is certain that he's never been surrounded by so much love and magic before. "The boy wouldn't have a bad thing to mention, he's whipped for you, I must say," Anne mumbles the last part of her sentence, and it makes Louis blush ever so slightly, his face heating up behind the hot cuppa.

Harry makes a noise from where he's sitting; "Mom, don't," Louis can't help but laugh at the sight of Harry's embarrassment.

"Sorry, honey," She softly apologizes, winking at Louis. Her gorgeous, straight and brunette hair is cascading down her shoulders; Louis wonders where the curls came from. "Anyways, he told me you're from Doncaster. Yorkshire, yeah? I can tell by your accent, it's lovely,"

Louis beams. "Oh, yeah, my accent's pretty strong, innit,"

"So, how did you guys meet?" Anne adds, sipping on her own tea. The trees on the large yard are dancing with the warm wind, underneath the sunlight that bathes the space. Louis missed London, or maybe it was just Harry's presence and his family that made the infamous city feel so wonderful.

He looks aside and sees that the singer is smiling hugely, dimples making an appearance. It's distracting and he almost stumbles over his words. "Harry was doing a show in Manchester, I came along with a friend of mine, we met through the meet and greet and it got started from there."

Anne nods with a grin, "That's lovely! And how's the whole distance-relationship has been working?"

Louis ponders. One of the cats meows from underneath his chair. "We work it out quite well, actually. Right now he's staying at my place for a bit, but when he's traveling we find our own ways to be present and to be there for each other, despite the distance."

"He listens to every interview I'm in while he's at work." Harry mumbles, adding to the conversation. Anne's smile grows bigger at the information.

"And you send me flowers. We also call each other every night, to try and keep ourselves updated to our days, that kind of stuff," Louis mentions, glancing back at the man he's grown to love.

The lady is smiling brightly as she watches the interaction. It's a comforting sensation for Louis; her approval towards him. He feels safe, for some reason. Everything about that moment feels like home. "I'm so glad that it's working, honey." She says, "Harry? Would you grab Louis another cuppa, please?"

"Sure," Harry stands up and takes the empty teacup from Louis' hands, his fingers lingering a meaningful touch on his knuckles.

When the singer has disappeared on the insides of the house, Anne's voice echos quietly; "You know, it used to be one of my greatest concerns. How Harry will find love while he's living such busy life?" Louis nods, carefully listening. Her eyes are deep and genuine. "I've never seen my son this happy with someone. He adores you, Louis, I can tell. I'm grateful that he found you."

Louis can't contain the blooming happiness on his chest as the light breeze runs through his face. "I adore him just as much, if not more. I'm very happy with him." He states. Anne's smile is so truthful and her words are coated in such tenderness that he can't help but wonder if there's anything bad relating to Harry. Everything about the singer is so filled with love, so endearing and sweet. It's in his mother's eyes, he can tell Harry was raised well, and that Anne played a huge part on why he became such an amazing man.

Harry appears soon after, his tall figure approaching and bringing domestic, comfortable waves with him. He feels like kissing the man, and as Harry bends down to give Louis his tea, he pecks his lips quickly, almost as if he's read his mind. Anne is smiling brightly, and so is Louis then. Everything feels sweet.

It's the next day, a chilly Sunday morning back in Manchester when things begin to pile over Louis' head.

His apartment is quiet, Harry is still asleep in his bed, and he is in the kitchen leaning over his counter and ignoring the notifications popping up on his phone non-stop. His heart is beating fast, his breathing is erratic as he grips the edge of the furniture, trying his hardest to not let himself fall into another attack.

He successfully does so, finding stability somewhere in his system. He's not anxious, but he's hesitant to see it, to open the notifications, to read the news.

_Harry Styles and his partner, Louis, seen leaving Harry's mother's house in north of London._

There's paparazzi photos scattered on Instagram, fan accounts re-posting the pictures of him and Harry exiting Anne's house, just a day prior. He's not ready to see the comments, or to read people's opinion about him. But, he recognizes - and _realizes -_ that he is now linked directly to Harry, not leaving any space for doubt or denial.

It was a ten second slip. Harry had warned him that maybe paps were lurking around the neighborhood, just before they crossed the street to get into the car and drive back to Manchester. Louis didn't care, he still doesn't; it's a fact that he's out there now, in the hands of the media and the public. His name and his figure, his appearance, and people can now put a face to the title of Harry Styles' boyfriend.

He doesn't mind it because he knew this was going to happen, sooner or later. However, he doesn't understand why he feels hints of fear.

Harry walks into the kitchen while Louis' still standing there, looking at the ground and pondering too much for his own good. The singer approaches and embraces his smaller frame. Louis can tell, by the gentleness of his touch, that he already knows what's going on. "How are you feeling?" Harry asks, face tucked on Louis' neck.

He doesn't know how to respond, so he kisses Harry's jaw instead, and feels the warmth of his skin spreading through him slowly. He feels safe again, inside his arms. "We'll be alright, won't we?" Louis whispers.

Harry looks at him, tired green eyes telling him everything he needs to know. "As long as we have each other."

Louis feels relieved, then, before stumbling back to bed. They don't get up again until the world is muted by the sounds of their heartbeats.

Mondays at the cafe aren't as quiet anymore.

Louis went to work the next day and faces an unusual amount of costumers pouring into the coffee-shop. Mostly, young women coming in groups, placing orders frantically and acting oddly. Louis feels almost paranoid, the way that there's too many people looking at him, glaring at his moving frame behind the counters like hawks. He should have know that this would happen, that people would find out everything about him once his identity became public.

He just didn't think it would happen so soon.

Workers are rushing around the place, looking stressed out at the sudden increased of costumers and orders. Louis feels bad and even receives some dirty looks from staff members as well. At the end of their shifts, the workers go home in a rush, and Louis finds himself alone in the backroom with a worn-out Niall.

"Today was crazy," The Irish lad mumbles, his tired frame sitting on the table there. "Did you know about the pictures as soon as it came out?"

Louis nods, picking nervously at the edges of his apron. "Yeah, yesterday morning. I didn't think people would find out where I work. I'm fuckin' stupid."

Niall shakes his head and glares at the smaller man. "Oi, don't you say that. It's not your fault." Louis takes his friend's words in consideration. Niall has a slightly aggressive, yet endearing way of showing that he cares. It's one of Louis' favorite things about the man. "What did Harry say about it?"

He shrugs. "We didn't really talked about it. I think he's so used to it that we didn't bother to discuss it."

"Well, you should," Niall advises, his accent showing. Louis can tell by his best mate's body language that he's feeling protective of him and is concerned about the situation. It brings him comfort to know that he has a friend that worries about him. "You guys are a couple, and now, you're the talk of the media, so, I think it should be discussed between the two of you. He may be used to it, but you're not."

Louis believes that Niall has a point. He nods shyly in return. "You're right."

"I'm always right." Niall says, winking towards his friend. They chuckle in unison, releasing a bit of the tension that had built up in the room.

There's an impatient string of knocks on the door then, and much to the pair's dismay, their boss walks in.

Louis never really got along with his boss. He's the type of person that will put workers at risk for the sake of profit, without a second thought. They share different opinions about a lot of things, and not many of his employees agreed with him either. Their boss was just a greedy man that never had to really put in work to get to the position that he's at.

"Tomlinson, I'd like to talk to you," The man says, his voice rough from the absurd amount of smoking that he endures. "In private." He adds, referring to Niall's presence.

The Irish lad immediately stands up with a pinched, annoyed look on his expression. Louis is aware of Niall's displeasure towards the man, too. "I'll be outside, Louis." Niall informs, looking empathetically at him, and exiting the room with no more than a glance to his boss.

When the door is closed, the man is direct in his speech.

"You can't work here any longer."

"What?!" Louis' heartbeat increases in a spike. His hatred for the man is mixed with the sadness of the news and it fuels his anger. "What do you mean?"

The boss rolls his eyes, his short body leaning against the closer door. "Are you that stupid?" He spits, crossing his arms over his suit. Louis fights the urge to physically charge towards the man. "You're done working here. You're fired. Get it now?"

Louis' fingertips are almost tearing the hem of his apron. "But, why?" He requests, despite already knowing the answer.

"You're damaging this business. People are going to keep coming here because of you, and the shop will become a mess. You know I hate messes." He hisses. Louis' lungs feel numb as he continues to listen. "I don't have the means to hold that many costumers. Your presence will bankrupt the shop, so you have to go."

It doesn't make much sense in Louis' mind. The man's words are scrambling in his brain, trying to find sense, but he can only think about Harry. He wants to see him, hold him, because he feels like he's about to drown again. "Sir, you-"

"I don't want to hear it, Lewis." He interrupts, his erroneous pronunciation of Louis' name adding to the man's irritation. "Your _connection_ with celebrities will fail my business. It's a fact. I want you out of here."

Louis can sense the way his tongue works out his words with disgust. He doesn't recognize the coated homophobia, but he finds himself stunned by the use of his terms. Harry isn't just a celebrity, he's a person, the best person Louis has ever met. He feels personally attacked listening to the man, maybe more than he should.

"Fine." Is all that he can gather inside his own mind. He takes his apron off and throws it somewhere in the room, eyes locked with the man's sharp gaze. He's done, tired and incredibly angry. It's a mixture of all the anxiety from the paparazzi photos being released and the hesitation to deal with it. It's the hawking looks he's gotten all day long, the paranoia that sticks to his bones. Louis grabs his backpack and walks towards the door, where the man is still standing. "Move your ugly arse out of the way so I can fucking leave." He snaps, matching his tone with the man's.

His boss moves aside slowly, and just before he exits the room and slams the door shut, the rough voice echos; "Good luck finding another job, Lewis!"

Niall is outside the cafe, anxiously pacing on the sidewalk until he sees Louis. He doesn't have to say anything to his friend, they don't need to exchange words, because it's all written on their faces. The Irish lad offers a hug, which Louis takes it. He feels like there's a million eyes on him as they stand there, he feels that there's cameras snapping endlessly at every step that he takes.

He lets those paranoid worries slip out of his mind, Niall's friendly gesture washing the intrusive thoughts away. "Is Harry still in your place?" He asks quietly.

Louis only nods. He recognizes that he's not as angry anymore.

"Then please, talk to him."

So, he does.

He never cries while he tells Harry everything that happened, but the singer does. He sheds a tear, much to Louis' surprise. He feels incredibly bad, and apologizes about a dozen times before Louis has to hold his face and kiss his sadness away.

They'll be alright. As long as they have each other.


	16. Chapter 16

Harry and Louis decide, together, to avoid social media as much as they can. Harry's manager has been calling frequently and keeping them updated over the news and what has been said about the whole ordeal, without sharing too many details. Mostly, the public is supportive of their relationship. It was pride month, as coincidental as it seemed.

It's something that has been working for them during their remaining days at Louis' place. It's odd, not having to wake up early and go to work. Louis ends up falling into a domestic routine that bases of cleaning, cooking and watching Harry go in and out of the apartment, working on stunts here and there, nothing too public. Harry has appointments in studios, and he comes back everyday with more stories to tell, new song ideas and concepts, even asking for Louis' help with his songwriting a few times.

It's a lovely contrast to what's been going on outside. The tenderness of private moments, where they lie on the couch and discuss random subjects, from Harry's music to their daily struggles, to how they're feeling about their future. It grounds Louis amid the stormy conditions of his bad moods, caused by the recent events. Louis loves to sit and listen to snippets of songs, to hear bits and pieces of Harry's impressive vocals on his phone recordings. It makes him smile during his nervous breakdowns.

It's been three days since Louis have been fired from his job and four since he has been exposed to the world, when his mother calls and breaks the peaceful walls that he's slowly been building during that time.

Everything comes tumbling down when he picks up the phone; "H-hello?"

He imagines an angry tone coming, yells and hurtful words echoing. But instead, a quiet pitch comes, and delicate words arrive; _"Louis, darling, what's going on? I've seen things on the media lately-"_

He tries to wonder how his mother's mind has been dealing with the information that he's son not only is gay, but is in a relationship with a worldwide known English singer. He stutters his way into the conversation; "M-mom, I can explain,"

_"Please do, because I've been so confused,"_

He explains everything; from the reason that he broke up with Eleanor, to the day he met Harry. It feels too unreal to put into words, but he tries his best, and paces around the subjects, gripping the phone tightly as he walks his mom through everything that's been going on in his life. He feels like he should feel lighter, now that there's no secrets between them anymore, but he doesn't. He feels like there's weight on his shoulders, his dismay towards himself.

_"Why didn't you tell me before, Louis?"_

Comes the question he doesn't know how to reply properly. Maybe never will. "I don't know, mom. I think I was scared,"

There's a loud sigh from the other end of the line. _"Scared of what? Me? Your dad?"_

He ponders, but it's no relief for his confusion. "I don't know," Louis comes to the realization that his mother found more about his life through the media than through himself, and it brings him a familiar heartache. He believes he should have brushed his pride aside and reached out for his mom earlier and told her everything, been honest with her from the very start. Now, it's too late, and it's a situation where saying sorry won't solve it.

"Are you mad at me?" He questions and feels childish fears washing over him.

 _"No, darling, I'm not mad."_ He breathes relieved, despite the warmth in his gut telling him that there's nothing to be relieved about. _"But I'm concerned. There's pictures of you out there, people are saying things,"_ She pauses. He hasn't seen any comments or read over any articles, to avoid exactly the type of reaction his mother is having. People can be cruel, sometimes. _"_ _I need time to think about this, yeah? But I'm not mad at you."_

He doesn't know how the conversation ended, or for how long he's been standing in his kitchen and thinking to himself.

He knows that Harry gets home a bit earlier than he's used to, and wraps his smaller frame protectively and tenderly. "How you're feeling?" Harry asks right away. It's a question that has been brought often, breaking the tension that surrounds Louis during most of his time alone.

He takes in Harry's cologne, hugging the man tighter. He's safe. "I'm good." He mutters sincerely. He is, truly. He could never be less than that inside Harry's arms. "My mom called today. Asked about the whole ordeal." Harry pulls away and there's a concerned frown coating his beautiful features. Before he questions again, Louis adds. "It was fine. She's a bit shaken by everything, but she didn't overreact or anything like that. She's processing, I guess."

Harry kisses his forehead. "That's good to know, Lou."

Louis then realizes that Harry has been the only consistent thing in his life - apart from Niall - that has been bringing him comfort. Harry's presence, his touches and kisses, his voice and his bright personality that puts color to his every day. He wants to hold the singer and protect him from everything that may hurt him, he wants to stand on the tallest rooftop and shout how much he _loves_ him.

Louis _loves_ Harry, and it's undeniable. He wants to tell him and yet something holds him back. Maybe they don't need words right now. However, Louis is in love, and that's something that he has never felt before. It makes him _need_ to let Harry aware of how he feels about him, maybe even, through non-verbal acts.

"Harry," He mumbles, inside the singer's hug.

"Yeah?" He responds, pulling away slightly to look down at him.

Louis locks his eyes on Harry's face, taking in the prettiest sights, the delicate curves of his features and the adoration that exhales from his being. "Thank you for being so patient with me," Louis appreciates, and Harry's expressions softens. The singer doesn't have time to respond, because Louis continues talking, and slides his small hands underneath his shirt, where his skin is warm and inviting. "Thank you for being present," He scratches Harry's sides slightly, feeling his ribs expand with the sigh that enters' Harry's body. The taller man parts his lips, and Louis proceeds. "Thank you for being so understanding and for never pushing anything,"

"L-Louis," Harry stutters and he recognizes the growing lust that's beginning to pool in the depths of his expression.

"Thank you for spending your precious days with me," Louis' hands catches the waistband of his tight jeans, pulling at his belt. Harry's eyes are dazed already. "For holding me when I need it, when I'm feeling down," He undoes the buckle of his belt, snapping it away from his pants and throwing it somewhere in the floor with a muffled sound. "And for holding me even when I don't need it,"

Harry licks his parted lips, watching the smaller man's ministrations with a lustful, yet so vulnerable look. Louis can't stop himself even if he wanted to. He tugs on Harry's pants, peeling the fabric off his soft, tanned skin. "You're the reason I keep waking up with a smile on my face," Louis lowers himself, planting kisses along Harry's tattooed stomach, a shiver rewarding his every move. "You opened up my world, more than you could ever know," He keeps talking, his voice vibrating against the singer's skin, bouncing off the walls of his kitchen. Harry's hands are gripping the edges of the counter tightly, his knuckles white.

"I want to be with you," Louis smooths his small fingers over Harry's hands, pulling them away from the furniture and placing them on his hair instead. Harry groans at the sight before him. Louis is kneeling now, hands busy removing the layers of fabric that cover Harry's erection. His mouth waters at the sight of Harry's hard cock bouncing off his boxers as he pulls them down, exposing him completely. Harry's fingers tighten around his hair, but there's no rush in his movements.

"No matter how, when or where, I know I'll be with you," He mouths the base of Harry's erection, tasting the warm and smooth skin, humming along his words. The singer moans loudly, but nothing interrupts the end of Louis' speech as he completes; "And that's why I keep going. For you. For us."

Louis' lips run the length of his hard-on delicately, his tongue pokes out and licks at the head, and then he pushes Harry inside of his hot mouth. "Oh, Louis-" Harry groans, loud enough for the sound to echo inside the tiny space. His hips are stilled against the counter, his hands are tugging on Louis' hair like he's about to collapse, and Louis works his mouth around the man, proud of himself for dragging the pleasant noises out of Harry.

He's submerged, down under some sort of space where time doesn't run by, and his surroundings dissipate. There's only Harry, his noises and his desperate grip on his hair. Louis can feel himself growing incredibly hard inside his own pants, but there's not a single thing in his mind if not the _need_ to please Harry, to get him off, and to watch him fall apart piece by piece.

"Fuck, Lou, your mouth feels so _fucking good, oh-"_ The singer is letting out a string of curses and dirty talk that does nothing but fuel Louis into moving his head faster, taking more of Harry each time he goes further. His small hands are gripping the man's hips, feeling the shivers and goosebumps that creep up his structure, scratching ever so slightly.

It's when Louis looks up and locks his eyes on Harry's that he feels the man's erection twitch against his tongue.

He's incredibly close. He can tell by the shaking thighs and the push and pull of his hair. Harry is properly thrusting into his mouth then, and Louis is proud of himself momentarily for being able to take it. He's blissed-out himself, hazing in his own pleasure as if he's the one getting head. His erection is leaking inside his own boxers, and the ruining of his throat does nothing but to add to his hypnotizing state.

"Lou! I'm coming, I'm-" He hears Harry announcing, and then his hips come to a stop, pulling Louis' face closer and coming down his throat. Louis controls his breathing as he swallows, greedily taking every bit, and feeling his veins burn with his desire. He loves being there, under Harry's needs and control, and even more doing so after telling Harry all the things he genuinely feels.

He coughs slightly when Harry pulls out of his mouth, regaining his breathing all at once. He's still dazed when the taller man crouches down and cups his face. "Lou? Hey, are you alright?" Louis can only nod, and smile. "I'm so sorry, I got carried away. Did I hurt you?"

Louis kisses him in response, full of hunger and fervor. It's sloppy, but firm and consistent; the way he's biting at his bottom lip sensually brings Harry's worries to be reduced into a pleasant hum. Louis pulls back then, blue eyes half parted in lust, and says with a ruined voice, "Does that answer your question?"

Harry's dimples come to life then, and he's smirking deliciously, because he realizes that Louis may like it rough. "Do it to me." Harry demands, and Louis is more than happy to comply.

When he thrusts into Harry's face, he starts fearfully, and finishes recklessly, all harsh grips and love-bites on his hips, marking him as Harry's only. Not that he needed hickeys to belong to Harry. He feels like he belongs to him since the moment he saw him. Green eyes are full of tears and finds out that Harry _loves_ it just as much as he did himself. He enjoys the noises and the sights before him, and takes everything around him as a blessing when he comes down the singer's throat, finding nothing but magic within his touch.

They hop into the shower together minutes later, and let the water run down their bodies while they remain there, holding each other, foreheads touching and soaking skin grazing beautifully. Harry's hands are maneuvering the soap, spreading foam all over Louis' petite body, when he lowers his head to talk into Louis' neck "I have to leave tomorrow." Louis almost frowns, but Harry adds quickly; "Wanna go to Nashville with me?"

The smaller man smiles, licking his soaked lips. "You want me to go to the United States with you?" Harry kisses his jaw. It's the only confirmation he needs. "Sure, Haz. Wherever you go."

Louis can only feel Harry smiling against his skin.

Traveling to the USA means going to the airport, which means facing a crowd of unstable and yelling fans, along with intrusive journalists and paparazzi's.

Louis feels ready, though. He's nervous, but contained, and all he needs is Harry's reassuring words as they take a drive towards Manchester Airport. Louis is texting his flight details to a concerned Niall, the lad he's seen just hours before, when he went to his apartment to grab spare keys for Louis' place, take the plants to his own house and to say goodbye to the couple. Louis is certain that he'll miss his best mate, and hopes to see him again soon enough.

The driver is parking close by the entrance of the large airport, where security staff and bodyguards are awaiting and forming a half-circle to surround the couple as they exit the car.

"Ready, baby?" Harry asks, pulling Louis' hand inside his own. The car comes to a stop and their bags are already being removed from the trunk.

Louis nods and pecks his lips. It's incredibly sweet; "Let's go."

"Hold tight." The singer mumbles one last time, before he clicks the door's button. Security is already surrounding the parted door, fans' screaming intensifies as Harry exits first, his hand tightly around Louis'. The smaller man breathes in deeply, and leaves the car too.

The bodyguards are towering over them protectively as they pace towards the entrance. Harry wraps one arm around Louis as they walk, whispering in his ear, among all the high screams and flashing cameras. "Look down a bit if you need to," Harry instructs, and Louis does so almost immediately. It's easier to cross the space them, focusing only on the ground and finding only their rushing feet. Harry is wearing a pair of sparkly boots that makes him smile slightly.

He feels safe then, even almost turning deaf from all the overwhelming noise. They enter the airport and the noise is decreased, but there's still a lot of people surrounding them. There's phones up on their faces and huge cameras flashing. Louis cringes at the thought of how he will look on those pictures; head hanging low underneath his hoodie, hand tightly tucked inside of Harry's, who unlike himself, is walking confidently and looking up.

Harry's steps slow down a bit, and that's when Louis raises his head again. He glances up at the singer, who's offering him a smirk. "You alright?" He asks. He spots a few security men pushing people away from them.

"M'fine." He nods, eyes wondering through the space and the unknown, frantic expressions. He sees a girl holding a magazine with Harry's face on it and it hits him; he gestures for Harry to come closer, so he can whisper into his ear. "Do you want to stop by a bit and talk to your fans?"

Somehow, the question makes Harry's dimple appear through a beaming smile. He tugs at one of the bodyguards and mumbles something to them, and then the whole security team is slowing down on their steps. Louis looses his grip around Harry's fingers, making the singer look down at him suddenly. "Go, I'll be here with the guards." Louis announces and presses a peck on the man's cheek, watching fondly as Harry paces away and towards a few fans with security by his side.

Louis is surrounded by them too, tall and strong men holding the most serious and intimidating expressions he's ever seen. He wonders where their bags went, how will they reach the plane, if they'll be approached by more fans once inside the plane; he shakes his head quietly, trying to not start overthinking now, but allows himself feel the rush and the adrenaline that the moment brought him. He wonders if he'll ever get used to it, this hurried pace of Harry's life. Maybe one day, the extraordinary in ordeals like these would fade away.

Harry is giving attention to a lot of people, offering autographs and taking pictures, bending down and making peace signs; Louis thinks he looks absolutely adorable while doing it. There's a moment where a group of fans are talking to Harry, and he points towards Louis, who immediately feels the urge to turn away from the sudden spotlight, but doesn't. A few girls are waving towards him and he thinks he heard someone shout; "Hi Louis!"

He waves back and smiles. Harry shoots him an endearing grin and turns his focus back to the excited fans gathering around him.

It doesn't take much longer until Harry comes back and then they're pacing away and into the private waiting room.

The trip itself takes around sixteen hours and it's the most exhausting experience of Louis' life.

For starters, he has never traveled on an airplane before. He's a nerve-wreck during the take-off, eyes shut tightly as the aircraft picks up speed and lifts up into the air. He's sure that Harry's hand will break underneath his tight grip, but the singer doesn't say a word, only smiles and kisses his softly, encouraging him to open his eyes. When he does, he's struck with the view of Manchester from above. It looks almost as beautiful as Harry's face next to the window. He beams and points to where he spots Albert Square from far away.

Sometime later, when the plane is stable in the atmosphere, the land underneath them is substituted by an endless horizon of water. The infinity of the sea brings an odd feeling to Louis' gut; he doesn't know if it's a good or bad feeling, so, he just allows himself to feel it.

Their chairs are comfortable, spacious, and something tells Louis that usually is not that cozy in regular flights. He's privileged for having Harry booking him into the flight. He's blessed for having Harry falling in and out of sleep beside him through the entire trip, shooting eventual warm smiles and pecking his lips every time he wakes up briefly, hazily grazing their lips together. Louis was certain that he wouldn't be able to have any sleep in the plane, giving his nervous state of mind, but he ends up falling asleep quite easily after Harry places his head full of curls on his shoulder and cuddles up closer.

Harry is the one that wakes him up then, after some many hours later. The sun is pouring into the horizon, painting the sky with an orange-toned color that bathes the clouds beneath them. Louis feels a blooming sensation on his chest upon the realization; he's above the clouds, with Harry. Somehow, it's fitting.

They nap again, and wake up close to the landing time. Louis is relieved to see land and city lights instead of just water now.

Landing is worst than taking-off, Louis quickly finds out. Harry's chuckling quietly while Louis slightly freaks out when the aircraft reaches the ground, the noise and the sudden turbulence taking him by surprise.

"Fucking hell," Louis mumbles, evidently stressed-out. Harry finds amusement in his boyfriend's mannerisms, and it's adoring, for some reason.

Nashville's airport is huge and it holds as many screaming fans as the one in Manchester. Louis wonders how do people know where they're going to be next, and when. He can't grasp reality enough to understand, or maybe, he's too tired to do so. He gets it now, the exhaustion in Harry's voice when he calls him after a flight. Getting sleep on a plane doesn't seem to do its function.

It's easier to slip away from the crowds of fans and paparazzi's, since it's night time then and the darkness helps them dissipate smoothly into black cars and private rides. They reach the hotel minutes later, where, yet again, more people are waiting to see Harry around the entrance.

Louis is patient, waits for Harry in the lobby while the singer continues to give attention to the fans, waiting outside in the dry air of Tennessee's biggest city. Louis is stunned by the different spaces, the peculiarity of people's accents and their singular culture. He's never been outside of his country. Harry is, once again, responsible for his risk-taking decisions. He wouldn't have it in any other way.

When Harry comes back, he's smiling through a tired face. "They said you're cute." The singer mentions, and Louis secretly blushes.

Their room is huge, luxurious even, similar to the one Louis had seen back in Manchester. There's a living room kind-of space, with a TV and spacious couches. The bathroom has two different sections and the bed is king-sized.

He reminds of his tiny single-bed back in his apartment. "You'll finally be able to have some space away from me tonight." Louis jokes, gesturing to the enormous size of the mattress.

Harry paces towards him after putting their bags on the ground somewhere, and grabs Louis by the waist. "Bold of you to assume I want any space away from you." Harry whispers, pulling him closer, and then they're chuckling, kissing, stumbling and falling on top of the bed.

"Good, because I have nothing to do here in the US if not follow you around." The though makes Louis slightly insecure. He shakes the feelings away and kisses Harry instead.

"You better. I want to show you everything." The singer breaks the contact to press the smaller man onto the mattress and breathe into his neck. "I'm so happy you agreed to come with me."

"Me too. I could skip the plane bit next time, though." Louis plays and feels Harry's chuckle vibrate against his skin.

He's so far away from his apartment, so gone from his job and his routine. He's out of his comfort zone, completely, but still, it feels like _home_.


	17. Chapter 17

Louis wakes up the next day feeling like a brand new person.

Maybe it's the huge bed with soft blankets, or the delicious breakfast that is delivered in the early hours of the warm morning, or maybe it's Harry's presence, his bed-head and shirtless body stretched out on the mattress.

"What are the plans for today?" Louis questions, watching as Harry devours his meal while sitting up on the bed, not bothering to move to the table. Louis finds himself in the same position, cross-legged under the blankets and drinking his favorite beverage. He doesn't love the way that Americans prepare the tea - it lacks the English touch - but he gulps it down anyways. It's sweet and so is the sound of Harry's tired voice slurring over his words.

Harry, on the other hand, sips his coffee. "We're going to the studio first, then we'll grab lunch by midday, and apparently we have dinner plans with some people that I don't quite remember who." He shoots him a grin.

Louis is excited to witness this part of Harry's life, to watch him do what he loves the most. He's thrilled, even, to be able to be his companion throughout his day, despite the twinges of insecurity and hesitation that washes over his chest every couple of minutes.

"Hey," Harry calls, and Louis looks up immediately.

"Yeah?"

Green eyes are bright underneath the early sun that bleeds into the room through the sheer, white curtains. _He's so beautiful,_ Louis thinks. "You alright? You seem, I don't know, distracted,"

Louis licks his lips. "Just a bit concerned,"

"About what?" Harry finishes his coffee and sets the mug aside on the nightstand, his torso twisting and exposing the tattoos on his ribs.

"I don't want to be a burden during your day, it's alright if-"

Harry doesn't let him finish.

He's taking the teacup out of Louis' hands and putting it somewhere behind him, then he's pressing his lips against Louis', shushing him with a tender kiss that makes the smaller man melt underneath him. Harry deepens the kiss and pushes Louis gently down onto the bed, his back hitting the soft blankets. Harry's long legs trap his hips, his thighs widen involuntarily; he thinks that he's about to drown in the best way possible.

Harry breaks the kiss, resting their foreheads together, and Louis almost _whines_ at the loss of contact. "You're not a burden, not now, not ever." Harry states, his big hands taking a hold of Louis' smaller palms and pushing them to the sides of Louis' head. Blue eyes are dazed with the overwhelming amount of touching and handling of his body. Harry continues to plant little kisses along his jaw and down his neck.

"Haz," Louis groans, not sure why he's calling out for him. He feels his body going pliant and molding into the gentle caress of Harry's hands.

"You're so gorgeous, Lou-" Harry whispers against his collarbones, and lifts his head to look down at Louis with captivating and hypnotizing eyes. Louis is certain he's still fast asleep and dreaming, stuck in a trance. "I want you with me, there's so many things I want to show you."

"Okay," Louis mumbles, because that's all that he can say when he's in such position. All he can do is accept whatever the man has to say, or to offer, and he's more than happy to do so.

Harry looks incredibly at home in the studio.

The singer paces around almost in a catwalk, bouncing off the large rooms and private spaces with a smile on his face, greeting everyone that he crosses paths with.

Also, Louis doesn't think that he's ever heard Harry say his name so many times before; he's introducing Louis to every single person that he sees. Louis started off nervously, grinning timidly and shaking hands with the unknown figures, but by the end of it, he's almost introducing himself. The words feel rehearsed in Louis' mind, from hearing it dozens of times over and over.

They're in a particular room then, in the studio. It's a dark room, maroon walls with all kinds of recording and audio capturing equipment scattered around, as people work around with intent. Harry enters first, pulling Louis into the space by his hand. Louis can't help but smile at his partner's excitement, the way he swings his tall body awkwardly at any sign of music playing.

Harry is quick to place a hand on another man's shoulder and spin him around, revealing his confused expression that softens once he sees the couple.

"Hey Mitch, this is my boyfriend, Louis." Harry gestures to him, shooting him a dimpled smile every time. "Lou, this is Mitch, my guitarist."

"It's nice to finally meet you," The man responds. He has long hair and a there's a guitar pick in between his fingers as he shakes Louis' smaller hand. "Harry's been talking about you non-stop for a while now."

Louis chuckles, watching a light blush come up Harry's features. He can tell that Mitch and Harry are good friends, and he's heard stories about the two of them before. It's lovely to put a face to the name. "Is that so?" Louis makes small talk. "Harry did share some mushroom stories as well-"

"Lou!" Harry whispers-shouts, seeming embarrassed. Louis cracks a huge smile, for good measure.

Mitch laughs out loud. Louis can tell that he's going to get along well with the guitarist. "Those are too good to not be told, yeah?" The man says between chuckles.

Harry introduces him to the rest of his band then, all goes well and afterwards he has to go into the studio to do his work properly. Louis lingers outside the recording room, finding himself seated in a couch and watching as Harry hops around the areas and appears by the door every once in a while to check up on him.

Louis decides that he likes it; the vibe of the ambient, the sound of instruments being worked on and played, the _"one, two, three, four,"_ echoing before the every recording starts, the different, south-american accents and the way that everyone that enters the room is kind enough to say hi to Louis. He doesn't feel out of place, or even uncomfortable at any instance. It's sweet, and he's convinced it's all Harry's magic, once again.

A couple hours later into the recording session, Louis spots a familiar face. It's Jeffrey, Harry's manager. The brunet shoots him a recognizing glance and a huge smile, silently approaching where he's sitting.

"Hi, remember me?" Jeffrey mutters, glancing around the space.

Louis nods and responds quietly enough to not interrupt the people working there. "Yeah, Jeffrey right?"

He nods. "I'm glad that things worked out for you two." He says with a genuine smile.

Louis almost can't believe how supportive and kind everyone around Harry is. "Thank you, I'm glad too." He beams, and they both let out a quiet chuckle when Harry shouts something that echos off the walls.

Louis doesn't need any confirmation that he loves Harry, but he gets one anyways, when he's sitting there for hours just watching his boyfriend being himself, and he feels like there's no other place in the world that he would rather be.

Lunchtime soon comes around and Harry pops into the room along with his band. Harry is shamelessly pressing a peck on his lips before he can process anything. He doesn't complain at all. "What did you think? Bored yet?"

Louis shakes his head and snakes one arm around the singer's slim waist. "Not at all. I loved watching you do your thing over there."

Harry pecks his temple and bends down to his ear, whispering almost in secrecy. "Don't flatter yourself too much, but I have to say, you're my inspiration."

"Lovebirds! We're going to grab lunch in ten minutes." Jeffrey shouts from the door as everyone is exiting the place. Louis can't fight back the smile creeping on his features as he snaps his head back to the manager. "Your ride is already out there. We're sending everyone first, fans are waiting outside."

Harry gives the man a thumbs up and wraps his arm around Louis' shoulder, and soon, they're exiting the room as well, beaming smiles on their faces as if they've just conquered the world.

Louis thinks that they might.

They cross the building side by side and stop by the exit, bodyguards going into formation before they can walk out of the building and into the car. Screams intensify once they're out in the open, and Harry bends down a few times to take pictures with the fans against the fence.

Louis decides to leave him to it, letting go of his hand and trying his best to not draw attention towards himself, even though he can hear fans shouting his name. As much as he loves to watch the interaction between the fans and Harry, and to see the singer treat them all with kindness, he's not sure how to deal with it himself in an acceptable way. So, he paces towards the open door of the car in an attempt to get in and wait for Harry, but something stops him in his way.

Two men are suddenly in front of him, one of them has a camera in his face and the other grabs his shoulder rather harshly, wanting to get his attention no matter what it takes.

Louis is stunned, and he doesn't get the words that the man is saying, his accent is strong and his speech is muffled by all the shouts around him. He could grasps a few terms, like "boyfriend" and "relationship". He can tell the man is asking questions, he's certainly a journalist, or just a really intrusive paparazzi. Speaking of, the man with the camera is clicking his life away, blinding flashing lights making his blue eyes shut tightly and his hands raise in front of his face to protect himself.

"Louis! What's it like being Harry Styles' partner?!" He hears the man shouting. The grip in his shoulder is tight and it begins to hurt as he tries to get out of the uncomfortable touch. "What do you think about what the fans have been saying about you?!" He yells again, and that's when he feels like everything escalates too quickly.

Bodyguards are pushing the men away from him, but the guy's grip is persistent and he drags Louis with him as he's being pushed. Louis yelps at the sudden sharpness in his arm and then another bodyguard is freeing him from the man's grasp, pulling his small body back.

It's too much, too soon. The screams seem to get too intense and there's too many people around him, unknown hands touching him, despite the ones that try to protect him. He lowers his head and only lifts his gaze again when he hears Harry's voice.

"Louis, look at me," He listens and it feels like a lighthouse in the middle of an angry sea. He glances up to find Harry's green eyes filled with worry, and a twinge of what seems to be anger. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"I-" His voice breaks and he hates it. "I don't know,"

"Guys, get in the car." One of the bodyguards commands and the couple complies, Harry's hands going to Louis' waist and pushing him slightly towards the vehicle. Once they're inside and the door is closed, all the noise is cut off and Louis feels like he can breathe again.

"What was that? Are you okay?" Harry turns to him immediately and the cars begins to drive away slowly. Louis sees hands touching the windows around them. He still doesn't find his words. "Did somebody hurt you?"

Louis realizes his eyes are wet; he must have teared up at some point during the incident. He barely remembers it, it's like his mind wiped away the memories of the confrontation. It took no more than seconds, and yet he's so affected by it. "M'not hurt, but someone grabbed me, I don't know," Harry sighs and his eyes are glancing around the space as if he's ready to pick a fight. Louis has never seen him this angry and bothered by something. It's scary, somehow. "Please, don't worry, I'm alright." Louis reassures, but it's no use at the moment.

"It's not alright, you could've been seriously hurt." Harry says. His eyes lock onto Louis', and the car is finally driving away from mob of people. His expression suddenly softens and his hands fly to lace around Louis' jaw. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to look mad. Everything happened too fast, I didn't realize what was going on back there until I saw you on the ground."

_On the ground._

Louis doesn't remember falling. It makes sense, though, because he does remember being grabbed and pushed around before the bodyguard pulled him to his feet. Maybe it's a good thing that he doesn't recall everything that just happened. "I'm fine, yeah? A couple of men managed to get over the fence, probably. They were just asking questions and taking pictures, one of them _really_ wanted my attention."

Louis massages his shoulder, there's no sharp pain but there's a bit of muscle pressure where the man had tightly dug his fingers into. Harry notices the gesture and kisses his cheek. "I'm sorry you had to go through this mess. When stuff like these happens, we usually have a laugh afterwards,"

"You must be mobbed quite a lot," Louis says with a playful tone. It's good to see Harry's cheeks pulling into a dimpled grin after the traces of anger and concern are gone.

He nods. The car is already far away from the crowd and they can breathe in peace. "Mobbed, groped, someone stole my hat once,"

Louis shakes his head. It's an aspect of Harry's life that doesn't feel right, doesn't make sense. In any other scenario, it would be considered harassment, or assault, even. Harry's fame and his public figure somehow make it seem acceptable to do such things. "This ain't right, Haz,"

"I know," The singer sighs. "I try to be safe most of the time, but there's things we can't control."

Despite the uncomfortable experience, their lunch was great, Louis got to meet more of Harry's friends and co-workers and they actually ended up having a laugh about the incident.

Afterwards, they get to have a few hours of rest before they have to go out to dinner with people from the record-label that Harry has a contract with. Louis assumes it's just a business meeting kind of dinner, and Harry tells him that in those occasions he just eats quietly while his manager does all the talking and discussion.

Harry states that it will be a lot less boring having Louis there with him this time.

The couple is back in their hotel room soon after lunch, then. They enjoy a nice shower in the huge bathroom and Louis finds himself going through his luggage and letting out frustrated sighs.

"What's wrong?" Harry asks, voice soft from the warm shower they just had.

Louis tries to not be distracted by the singer's lack of clothing, as he walks around the room with just a towel hanging low on his hips. He gestures to his suitcase on the floor, already regretting the mess he made out of his own clothes. "I don't have proper clothes to wear tonight." He announces and feels slightly stupid for complaining about such thing. He continues, anyways, explaining; "I don't want to look like a slob next to my fit boyfriend."

Harry chuckles lovingly. "You're the fit one in the relationship," He says, approaching Louis and hugging him from behind. Louis caress his tattooed forearms where they're wrapped around his waist. He can feel Harry's damp curls brushing the side of his face and the scent of citric shampoo.

"Bullshit. Aren't you the most handsome man alive or something?" Louis jokes, but remembers seeing such title printed somewhere.

"Everyone that I introduced you to today came to tell me that I'm very lucky." The singer kisses the side of his jaw. "And I agree with them, you're bloody gorgeous,"

Louis sighs, throwing his head back on Harry's broad shoulders. Harry takes the opportunity to kiss the smaller man's neck, his hips moving involuntarily in little circles against Louis' backside. "Don't tease me, Styles," He moans, hating the way that he's completely, utterly whipped and gone for the man - he doesn't _actually_ hate it, though. More like the opposite.

"Sorry, can't help myself," Harry whispers on his ear and he shivers. "I'll get you new clothes, okay?"

"What? No," Louis shakes his head, not holding back the small surprised grin that takes over his features. "You shouldn't have to spend more money on me. You already bought my plane tickets and you're paying for the hotel-"

"Hey," Harry kisses his lips. Although Louis hates to be interrupted, this is one of the ways which he doesn't mind it at all. Harry is allowed to shut him up like that, anytime. _God,_ he's so in love, isn't he? "Let me do this for you. Consider it a hotel-room-warming gift."

"It's not a thing, Harry," He laughs.

"Now it is." The singer kisses him again, and he's _so_ gone. "Besides, you deserve it, after being mobbed for the first time."

Louis laughs even louder. He feels drunk, almost high, intoxicated by Harry's affection and his lovely touch. "Alright, you win this time,"

The singer spends a good twenty minutes on his phone then, online shopping for Louis and not letting his boyfriend see what he's buying.

"If you get me a dress or something stupid, I swear-"

"You would look lovely in a dress, actually."

"In your dreams, Styles."

As it turns out, it's not a dress.

The purchase is delivered a while before they have to leave for the dinner, the package dropped at their door and soon, there's new clothing hanging on Louis' arms as he heads to the bathroom to try it on.

It's a pair of good black jeans, which he was not expecting. They're tight, but stretchy and comfortable around Louis' legs and hips. He rolls his jeans, giving it his own touch, exposing his ankles a bit. Then, his upper body is fit inside a button up shirt, also black but with thin white stripes stamping the soft fabric. He looks in the mirror, looking at his reflection with a contented grin. He looks casual enough to be himself, but also well-dressed.

He brushes his messy fringe the way he likes it and puts on his shoes before he exits the bathroom.

Louis appears from the door, entering the open area of the room, where Harry is standing, waiting. The singer is looking down at his phone, before lifting his eyes and announcing; "Lou, our ride is on the-"

Harry interrupts himself once he locks his eyes on Louis' frame. "What?" Louis questions, almost self-consciously. If it wasn't for the green eyes that scans his figure up and down shamelessly, the blush that rushes up Harry's features and his lack of speech, he would think that Harry didn't like his looks.

"Louis," Harry manages to say, it comes out as a quiet whisper. His jaw is opening and closing slackly, his tongue poking out to lick his parted lips.

"I'll give you points for the outfit. I liked it." Louis states, opening his arms and turning around, wanting to show that it fits him perfectly. "Is it good enough?"

Harry only nods and makes a 'come here' gesture with his hand. When Louis approaches, the taller man is all over him, hands flying to touch his thighs and up his bum. Louis holds back the surprised gasp that drowns in his throat. " _God,_ Louis, you look so good,"

He chuckles. "Haz, we have to leave now if we want to get there in time."

The singer groans, his palms still traveling Louis' body, exploring the curves that the jeans accentuate. "It's a shame, if we didn't have to, I would-"

This time, Louis is the one to interrupt him with a kiss. "Don't start teasing me now if you don't want me to show up on this fancy dinner with a massive hard-on."

"S'not my fault my boyfriend is fit as fuck." He sighs.

"Cursing already, Haz?" He laughs and grabs ahold of his lover's hand, purposefully avoiding to knowledge the shivers that creep up his skin when he notices the hungry, desire-filled look in Harry's expression. "Let's go."

They exited the room and the hotel then, and he's convinced that ignoring Harry's teasing touches up his thighs during their ride is the hardest task he's ever faced.


	18. Chapter 18

The restaurant itself it's probably the fanciest place Louis has ever been in. He feels immediately under-dressed when he exits the car and observes that most costumers inside the high-dining place are dressed in fine clothing and long dresses. Harry notices his worries washing up on his features and keeps their hands linked the entire time while they go to a table, "You're the most beautiful person in this place." Harry whispers to him as soon as they enter.

It's safe to say that Louis doesn't feel as insecure after he hears those words.

Jeffrey arrives a while later, joining the couple at the table, along with almost half a dozen more people. After everyone introduces themselves around, Louis finds himself distracted by the decorations and the grandiosity of the space, elongated by tall ceilings and crystal chandeliers.

After food is ordered and wine is served, he watches Harry interact with the well-dressed men that he assumes are the important people that work in his record-label. It's lovely, the soft music that plays in the background, the dimmed lights that bathe Harry's features and the sweet, smooth wine that's coating his tongue every couple of minutes.

Louis feels a bit out of place sometimes, anxious underneath the sharp and predatory gazes of the clearly rich folks that surround the table. However, the delicious food arrives and distracts him again, in the best way possible.

The couple finishes eating, and Harry gestures towards Jeffrey, who is deeply concentrated in a conversation with some other important-looking lads. The singer taps his thigh underneath the table and Louis moves closer to his partner. 

"Follow me in a minute." It's what he hears before Harry is standing up and sneaking out of the table, leaving the large dining-room through a back door. Surprisingly, no one seems to notice the singer's absence, so Louis waits a minute and leaves quietly as well, pacing discreetly towards the door that Harry left through.

There's a long hallway, doors scattered on the walls, and Harry's standing there, his face beaming like he had just discovered a great treasure. "I bet you ten pounds that Jeffrey won't notice we sneaked out for another hour," The singer says, pulling Louis in by his hand.

The smaller man picks up his pace with a large smile. He feels reckless, walking beside all the back doors and employees' rooms. They weren't suppose to be there, and it makes him feel a youthful rush. "We're in the States, put some dollars on the deal and maybe I'll believe you," Louis mutters, his voice echoing.

The sound of their footsteps create a rhythm to the moment. Harry laughs into his hand and points to a large, emergency exit at the end of the hallway. Louis pushes it open with ease, finding a staircase. As they go up, Louis can't help but enjoy the carefree, and yet audacious sensation that travels through his system. It feels like a surreal dream, as Harry's sparkly boots continue to click against the levels of stairs, until they reach one last door.

Harry opens it, and guides Louis through.

It's a rooftop, completely empty of other people and yet, brightly illuminated. There's furniture and more beautiful decoration; it looks like a bar works there during the late night hours. It's a place that reminds him of Harry, the open area, the magic lights, the warm breeze and the view of the city. Nashville is bright and alive before them, and it's breathtaking.

It's so familiar, the way they walk towards the railing without missing a beat and lean their bodies against it, cuddling up closer to one another and admiring the view before them. Louis finds that the lights reflected in Harry's eyes are way more interesting the the entirety of the skyline. "You seemed confident on our way up here. You do this all the time?" Louis questions, looking up.

Harry's dimples make an appearance. "What? Escaping boring meetings?"

"No," Louis kisses the side of his jaw. It tastes like wine and sweet adrenaline. "Going to places with an open view, like these. This is probably the third balcony, or rooftop you've brought me to."

Harry plants a peck on his hair in return. "Oh, yeah, I quite like it," The singer informs. Louis is grateful to be able to share moments like these with him. "Gives you a feeling of freedom, innit?"

Louis ponders quietly. Freedom is subjective. The lights in front of him each hold a different story, a different life, and yet, they're all connected. He feels like everyone is watching them, and at the same time, no one can see them at all. He feels almost invisible in the big city, maybe that's why Harry feels so comfortable in places like these.

"Do you ever feel free?" He asks, the light wind carrying his question away.

Harry pauses and looks down at Louis. He doesn't notice it, the adoration in Harry's eyes and the explosion inside his chest. He's focused on the flickering lights, and Harry believes that it's such a _Louis_ thing, that he doesn't have the courage to break his viewing.

"When I'm with you, I do." He whispers, not sure if Louis heard. "I feel like I can conquer the world."

Louis looks at him then, blue eyes coloring the imagery of Nashville. "You already did, Haz," The smaller man states, sincerely. He wraps one arm around Harry's waist, pulling him closer, putting emphasis to his words. "I'm proud of you." Louis doesn't think he's ever been so alive as he said those words.

Maybe it's the rush from being on top of one of the highest places in Nashville, their closeness to the sky symbolizing how high and light he feels when he has the singer inside his arms. Maybe it's Harry's kiss after he speaks, lips tinted by the wine, and eyes colored by city lights.

He feels like everyday, something confirms to him how much he's in love. Tonight, the lights tell him.

He doesn't know how much more time they spend there, glued to one another, sharing kisses and words, until Jeffrey is calling Harry's phone.

_Freedom._

It's odd that Louis' mind processes everything during the nighttime, when he's suppose to rest. However, he doesn't find tranquility then, as his eyes travel through their dark hotel room, and his body slowly shifts and moves out from under the covers, leaving a sleeping Harry to rest peacefully.

His bare feet drive him to the large balcony, where there are no lights turned on. The only source of illumination are the city lights and the bright moon that hangs high in the sky. Leaning in against the railing, Louis can't help but allow his mind to wander and fall into deep thoughts.

It's not a good thing.

His brain betrays him most of the time, driving him towards a wave of self-consciousness and worthlessness that will drown him if he doesn't control it. It's a familiar feeling, the way he always dealt with himself and his identity, the anxiety that makes him feel like he's running out of time. He's like a leaf at the mercy of the wind, without the weight of a goal to ground him.

He feels the urge to smoke, fill his lungs with the intoxicated substances that always made his breathing falter a little easier. It would be helpful in moments like these, where he's inhaling deeply but it doesn't feel like it's enough.

A pair of long arms wrap around his figure. He breathes in and it goes a bit easier."Can't sleep?" Harry whispers against his neck.

Louis suddenly feels bad, noticing how tired Harry sounds. "Did I wake you?"

"No, but I can feel your deep pondering a mile away." The singer pecks the skin behind his neck. "What's on your mind, Lou?"

He sighs, not knowing where to begin. "So many things."

"Good things?"

"More like, things I want to do. Or need to,"

Harry hums and hugs him closer. Louis finds himself trapped between Harry and the city. It's the best place he could ever be stuck in. "Like what?"

"I want to go to Uni." He states after pausing. "It was the reason I moved to Manchester, in the first place. Am I too old for that?"

"No, not at all." Harry responds and the sincerity in his tone eases Louis' mind. "It's wonderful that you want to go after your education."

"Yeah, I guess," The smaller man breathes. He can feel his lungs expand and his skin shiver underneath the chill breeze. He's alive, and Harry's presence seem to remind him of it constantly. "I need a job, though. Won't be able to pay for shit if I don't,"

Silence settles as they both fall into thought. Harry breaks first; "I could help with that."

Louis shakes his head slightly and feels Harry' curls tickling the top of his shoulder. "I feel like it's something I should do myself." He confesses.

"There's nothing wrong with taking a bit of help."

"I don't-" Louis interrupts himself with a frustrated sight. Harry is right. There's nothing wrong, and yet, his mind doesn't seem to accept it. He's been alone and independent for most of his life, even during times he didn't like it. "I'll feel wrong if I take it."

"Well, don't, I'm offering it. You're my boyfriend, if there's anything I can do to help-"

"You shouldn't have to pay for my stuff. I'm almost twenty-five and I've got no job and no education and, and-" Louis announces, interrupting Harry, because he feels like the whole city can hear his confession and his mistakes. Nashville is watching him with judgmental eyes and he can't take it. "I'm a fucking failure." He states with such a honest tone that it causes Harry's chest to physically ache.

"No, you're absolutely not-" Harry starts to say, but Louis doesn't want the city to listen to more of his defeat. He kisses Harry, turning his whole body around and snaking his arms loosely around the taller man.

"I don't want to talk anymore. We should go to sleep. You have to be at the studio early in the morning," He knows he's being unfair to the singer, and it may be something that they would have to talk about later, but now, the night is running late and Harry's eyes are so tired and so _pretty_ that it's a crime that he's wasting sleep with his own problems.

"Okay," Harry mutters almost painfully, and Louis' heart stings.

He slips out of Harry's embrace and pulls the taller man by the hand, going back to the bed that doesn't feel as warm as before. 

The sun bleeds into the room early in the morning, but Louis feels cold. Harry isn't there by his side when he wakes up, his eyes dart around the room desperately, his drowsy state of mind almost convincing him that Harry's presence was nothing but an illusion all this time.

The singer appears as he's exiting the bathroom a minute later, wrapped around in a towel and wet curls hanging around his face. Louis sighs relieved and lets his body relax back into the mattress; "Hey," He mumbles.

Harry shoots him a smile and approaches, bending over the large bed to give the man a kiss. "Good morning, Lou,"

Louis hums contently over the taste of mint toothpaste and citric shampoo. Harry's damp skin looks inviting, tanned and inked under the morning atmosphere. If he wasn't still tired from the broken sleeping pattern he's gotten the night before, he's certain that he wouldn't resist jumping into Harry's arms.

Memories from the just hours earlier come washing over him like cold water.

He recalls the sad look in the singer's features, the tiredness of his voice. He remembers the nightly cold breeze, the city lights and Harry's warm embrace; all things that he loves, but it doesn't bring him joy to relive the reason why he couldn't sleep in the first place. Louis watches quietly as the singer gets dressed for his day, and he can't help but admire everything about the man. Harry didn't deserve to hold the weight of his own problems, or at least, that's what he believed.

"Harry," He calls, sitting up on the bed. The singer lifts his head and looks at Louis from across the room. "I'm sorry about earlier. I was a dickhead."

At Louis' sincere apology, Harry drops what he was doing and enters the bedroom area, long legs carrying him across the room until he reaches the edge of the bed. Louis is almost ashamed to look up, expecting to meet a disappointed or a frustrated expression. He breathes and glances up though, and finds nothing in Harry's eyes but comprehension. He forces a small grin; "Don't worry. I understand. I should've given more thought to the things you want before I forced you into this,"

There's a pause, the room is quiet. Cars and honks can be heard echoing outside. The world is still spinning. Louis shakes his head; "You didn't force me at all. I came because I want this, I want _you._ " He assures. Harry's forced grin becomes a real one then. Louis finds his heart beating faster at everything that surrounding him, the good and the bad, the bad being all up in his head. "But I want to feel enough. For you, and for myself."

Harry nods, and Louis can tell that he wants to intervene in his words. Knowing the singer, he knows that he wants to say something along the lines of "you are enough already", but he doesn't. Louis appreciates that. He's grateful that Harry is listening and taking his opinion on himself seriously. He didn't know he needed that until then.

"Can you just do me one favor?" Harry questions, looking down.

Louis bites back a smile, because Harry is just too _beautiful_ and it's barely eight o'clock yet. "Yes," He responds.

"Think about what I offered you. Really think about it." The singer says, his tone almost pleading. "Okay?"

Louis nods. "Yeah, I can do that," He replies, and that takes a smile out of Harry. A genuine one, with his favorite pair of dimples; suddenly, Louis is completely awake. That's all he needed to see. Harry leans closer, and they share a quick kiss, sealing their silent deal. "What time will you leave the studio?" Louis questions as soon as they pull away.

Harry ponders. "Around one pm, I think. We can find somewhere to meet afterwards, or you can meet me in the studio early on."

"I'll meet you in the studio." Louis decides.

Harry smiles once again. The sight is addicting in Louis' bloodstream. "Do you still have the driver's number that I gave you?"

"Yep."

Harry gets up and gathers his stuff into his pockets, preparing to leave the room quietly as Louis turns on the TV and lets the noise begin to substitute the silence that Harry's absence would cause. "Good. Don't walk all by yourself, yeah? Wouldn't want you to get mobbed again." The singer requests."

Louis chuckles, stretching his arms. "Never again. I'm traumatized."

"Drama queen," Harry laughs and it echos inside the room. Louis secretly wishes that the sound could bounce off the walls for a few more minutes, just to he wouldn't feel completely alone in there. Harry runs to the bed and presses yet another kiss to Louis' lips, leaving behind a trace of strawberry lip-gloss; it's a small detail about him that still amazes Louis every time, in the best way possible. "See you later, boyfriend."

When he exits the room, Louis feels tired once again, his energy walking out the door with Harry. 


	19. Chapter 19

Being alone in a huge hotel room, with nothing to listen to but futile news on TV, makes Louis think deeply into the details of Harry's request. 

Not only that, but his mind dares to go further, wondering about his goals, his education, and especially, his future with Harry. He thinks it's relieving - and also incredibly scary - to picture himself in the future and see the singer by his side, still. He's never been this enamored with someone, never thought that he would find the truest love, not even within himself.

As he glances around the room and risks going to the open balcony, exposed to the world and to the sun, his brain clicks in place, in the best way possible. He's breathing quickly, his heartbeat's raising, but it's not a sign of his anxiety for once.

After hours of pondering and a shower, he calls the private driver's number and soon, he's exiting the hotel discreetly. It's odd for him to experience such things as having his own driver that takes him whenever he wants, so he's a bit awkward when he requests for the employee in the driver's seat to take him to a jewelry store.

Louis believes that the gesture will exceed beyond materialistic goals; he wants to feel open, completely, to Harry. He wants the singer to understand that he's not going anywhere, despite his insecurities and anxious habits, and despite whatever the world is saying about them. 

He wants to materialize his vulnerability to Harry.

He believes that he manages to do just that when he enters the jewelry store, minutes after. His driver also happened to be a bodyguard; the large man towers over Louis as he paces inside the store beside him. 

Louis soon lets go of all hesitation and awkwardness, and even asks the man for advice as he's trying to find something within the store that will fit well into his relationship with Harry. He was thinking of a bracelet, but he's never seen Harry wear any. His bodyguard suggests a ring, but it feels a bit too serious for the matter, yet. 

He settles with a necklace, and he finds the perfect one hanging on one of the counters, protected behind thick glass. 

"It's perfect," He whispers to himself, and soon, an employee is is taking it out for him to hold it.

Minuscule and delicate silver strips are laced together, creating a single string, beautiful and shiny underneath the bright lights of the fancy store. The pendant is a sunflower, tiny and subtle, and yet so elegant. He likes the contrast, the silver on the flower's petals instead of gold. He loves the way that the necklace melts between his fingers, and he loses his breath for a second imagining it settling in between Harry's collarbones. 

It's not too expensive, but it's enough to make a difference in his bank account. He brushes any concerns away and pays for the object, skipping outside the shop happily with his purchase in hands.

"I'm sure Styles will love it." His driver comments as they're entering the black car, parked near the store. The sidewalks are busy, rushed and crowded. Louis is still learning how to deal with the recognizing glances that he gets every couple of minutes.

Louis chuckles as he straps himself behind the seat-belt. "I really hope he does." The car enters a light traffic. Louis can't help but hold the beautiful, beige box on inside his palms, trying to contain his excitement. 

"To the studio, Mr. Tomlinson?" The man asks. 

Louis quietly cringes at the title, but smiles back. "Yes. And please, you can call me Louis."

"Sure thing, Louis."

When they arrive at the studio, the sun is high in the sky and the weather is inviting. He almost wants to drag Harry outside to give him his gift, however, he knows he's too anxious to wait. Louis easily guides himself through the studio, reaching the door where he knows Harry will be working. He knocks quietly, and Jeffrey is there to open the door for him

The brunet offers him a grin as he enters, "Hey Louis, Harry is just finishing the final touches of a recording. We'll be heading to lunch soon."

"Thanks, Jeff." He dares to nickname the man and enters the room, sitting in the same spot in the couch he's been previously. 

He's fidgeting with the strings of the bag he's holding, maybe a bit overly excited to give the present to his boyfriend, but he's patient enough to wait quietly and to let his mind drift, until Harry's head full of curls pops up behind the door.

Louis stands up and immediately prepares himself for the pair of long arms to wrap around his figure. It comes easily, the warmth, and the love. "Hi Lou," Harry greets, kissing his cheek. "Would you believe me if I said I missed you dearly in the last five hours?" 

Louis notices that Harry's voice is raspy and probably overworked; it's a small detail about him that he's growing to love, as every other detail he already does. "I actually do believe you, because I missed you too." 

Harry looks down briefly. "What you got there?"

Louis pecks the singer's lips, earning the sight of his dimples. "I got you a gift."

The taller man's eyes brighten up, his whole expression beams. Louis feels like buying him a present everyday, just to see that light in his features again. "What?" Harry says, his accent thick in his word.

"Here," Louis lifts the packaging and offers it to Harry, decorating the gesture with quiet words that only the two of them can hear, despite the presence of other people in the room. Harry's magic makes him forget of any other thing in the planet. "Consider it another an apology gift, also, I thought about what you said last night and-"

"Louis!" Harry expresses, and Louis can't help but chuckle at the man's reaction as he sees the little box with the brand's name printed on top. 

"You were right, Haz." He continues. Harry looks up, paying full attention to his words. Louis feels like he's on the spotlight, underneath the singer's gaze, and suddenly, he doesn't need to say anything anymore. He can feel Harry's emerald paradise reading the words stamped on his expression. 

Long fingers are slightly shaking as they open the box delicately; the petite sunflower is there, embedded in silver and meaning. The singer lets out a small gasp as he almost hesitates to touch the jewelry. "Louis, this is beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you." Louis knows it's a cliche thing to say, but he couldn't care less. Harry makes him like this, and he wouldn't change a thing. "Did you like it?"

"I loved it!" Harry tells, content filling his tone. "Put it on me, please." He gives the box to Louis and turns around, waiting patiently as Louis removes the necklace from it's place and raises his arms, reaching his neck, and letting the pendant fall down the skin of his chest.

When Harry turns back around, he's tearing up, and Louis wonders if he's ever tired of competing with the brightness of the sun. He's so evidently _happy_ that there's nothing that Louis wouldn't do to keep that expression in his face. 

The singer looks down and admires the pendant where it falls between his collarbones, decorating the bit of skin that's exposed amid the unbounded parts of his blouse. "Thank you so much, Lou." He bends down and kisses Louis sweetly, holding the small sunflower between his fingertips. 

"It's nothing, love."

"Thanks for listening to me, too." Harry adds. "I promise to do my best to help you in anyway." Louis isn't sure if the world is still spinning. He's stuck in a surreal moment and everything feels like waves are driving him deep into the ocean, but it's warm and welcoming. He loves it. 

Louis wants to tell Harry more, to materialize his thoughts, but he doesn't need to. They communicate quietly, walking out the room hand in hand, and he can't help the giggle and the smile that invades his face every time that Harry approaches someone to show off his gift.

Later that night, Harry rides Louis with the necklace on.

It's a vision that Louis will hold onto forever, a memory burned into his brain that won't leave even if he wants it to. Harry is beautiful above him, his thighs trembling as he moves up and down, his torso twisted and stretched in pleasure, tattoos exposed to the dense atmosphere around them.

 _"Fuck, Louis-"_ Is the only chain of words that Harry manages to moan out as slowly moving on top of Louis' hips, driving his cock in and out of him in a delicious drag that leaves both men groaning in desire. Curls are bouncing around his carved features, his head thrown back, the necklace reflecting light on the middle of his chest. Louis can't help but to stare at the artwork in front of him.

Harry can't keep his eyes off Louis either; the smaller man's face is coated in lust, tattoos glistening under a thin coat of sweat as he grips Harry's thighs and hips, leaving small bruises that the singer is more than happy to carry. Louis' wavy, chestnut-colored fringe is all over the place, decorating the pillowcase and the edges of his sharp cheekbones. Icy blue eyes are blown wide and his thin lips are parted, allowing the most lovely sounds to come out. 

The hotel room could be on fire, but neither of them wouldn't care to stop; it's _too good_ , and yet, not enough for them to show how much they belong to one another. 

The couple orgasm together then, lost amid the darkness of the room, letting their highs take the best of them in the most beautiful way.

Louis is obsessed with the way that Harry smiles after he comes; it's a hazy smile that becomes a dangerous and contented smirk, plastered all over his features like a prize. His half-parted eyes are tired and yet so full of life that Louis can't imagine how Harry's previous partners let him go. It's addicting, intoxicating and lovely, everything about the singer that's sliding away from his lap and lying beside him, falling into the soft mattress with a happy sigh.

"You are going to kill me one of these days," Harry chuckles between deep breaths. 

Louis smirks, turning his body to face his boyfriend. "I should be the one saying that. You're bloody gorgeous."

They laugh, for some reason, and the room falls into comfortable silence as Louis rests his head on Harry's chest and plays with the pendant of his necklace, twisting the sunflower around in his fingers. 

Harry falls asleep not too long after that, tired from the long day and the mind-blowing sex. Louis takes the opportunity to leave the bed and wipe away the dry come from their bodies, running a cloth along Harry's skin delicately enough to not wake him up. 

When he returns to bed, he settles underneath the blankets and takes his phone from the nightstand, tapping on the notifications.

Niall texted him a few hours ago. Louis sees that his friend sent him an attached picture of himself, probably taken by a paparazzi, just outside the jewelry store. He's smiling when he reads the caption the Irish lad typed;

 _"Proposing already?"_

Louis can't help the blooming in his chest. 


	20. Chapter 20

Harry nearly breaks the internet the following morning.

The singer made an Instagram post after months of inactivity - Harry likes to maintain his privacy - which consisted of a simple picture. He had captured a photo of Louis' gift, the small sunflower between his fingertips, resting easily into his touch.

The post had no caption, however, with the paparazzi shots of Louis outside the jewelry store, fans quickly made the connection. After posting, Harry shut his phone, turning off all the notifications, and fell back in bed beside a sleeping Louis.

The couple wakes up again around an hour later, enjoying the last remaining minutes of their warm, comfortable cuddle underneath the sheets, before getting out of bed. 

Louis recognizes how easily it was to grow accustomed of his boyfriend's routine; waking up early in the morning was never a good part of his day, however, with Harry's magic atmosphere, it seemed easy and pleasant. It gave him the opportunity to see the singer's features before the sun had touched it, when he's fresh from sleep and rested. 

"I posted something on Instagram today," Harry murmurs, voice drowsy still. He sounded like he were reminding himself of something he did.

Louis looks across the room, waiting for Harry to finish brushing his teeth, while he makes the bed quietly and processes the information. "When?" He questioned.

Harry finally spits on the sink and turns around, pacing to the bed, his smile growing bigger at each step he took, each step closer to Louis. "When you were asleep."

"Sneaky bastard," Louis jokes, pecking his boyfriend's lips. "What did you post?"

"My gift." Harry says simply, holding Louis close. He moves his hand up to touch the pendant on his chest. Louis looks down, hypnotized by the sight of Harry's tanned skin contrasting with the silver jewelry. He decides that he would bathe Harry in gold, if he ever gets the chance. "I'm still not over how pretty it is."

Louis smiles, planting a kiss on the singer's tattooed collarbone. "It's not nearly as beautiful as you."

"Romantic, aren't we?" Harry chuckles, drowning in the blue seas of Louis' eyes.

"It's your fault." 

Breakfast arrives soon, filling their hotel room with pleasant scents of fresh food and coffee. Nashville starts to come to life, city noises echoing, surrounding their calm atmosphere. It added to the good mood of their mornings, Louis believes; it's clear and evident how at peace he feels when he's with Harry, despite the chaos outside.

"I have an interview today." Harry tells him, sipping on his caffeine.

Louis, on the other hand, settles on, unsurprisingly, tea. He lies back on his chair, eyes flying to Harry's features. "Which radio?"

The singer shakes his head slightly. "It's for TV," 

"Is it going to be live?"

"No, s'recorded." He responds. Louis hums. "Will have to look presentable, though."

Louis almost takes it as a personal offense that Harry believes he doesn't look good at all times. He chuckles, glancing at his lover. "You always do."

"I'm not fit like yourself, Tomlinson," Harry shoots him a wink across the table. "Anyways, you coming with me?"

Louis doesn't respond, but gets up from his seat and kisses the man instead, tasting the the coffee and the natural honey of Harry's lips.

The TV recording set is more intimidating than Louis imagined.

It looks like a glamorized shed; tall walls hold a large group of people, teams working around like bees in a hive, individual and serious tasks. Huge lights are hanging from the high ceilings, illuminating large lenses of expensive cameras and other recording equipment. 

Still, Harry walks in casually, comfortably, holding an amused Louis in one hand and a coffee in the other. He greets everyone, or as many people as he can in the short amount of time he has before his interview begins. Louis follows, already growing used to the way Harry enters those spaces, and learning the best ways to get through with the insane amount of people that Harry interacts with in his work days. 

It's lovely, and he enjoys it, despite the sheer anxiety that coats his bones. When he feels like he might get overwhelmed, all he needs to do it look aside, catch the sight of Harry's grinning features, and then all it's good and light again.

Jeffrey shows up late, a few minutes before the interview starts. He enters the set, greets Louis and sits beside him, in the space reserved for Harry's guests behind the cameras. 

After light and sound checks, the interview begins, a lady sitting across from Harry and starting a casual exchange of conversation before she gets to the questions.

Louis is focused and at the same time, his mind is drifting, watching Harry doing his work, using his years of media-training to use. Louis smiles fondly when he catches glimpses of shine in the singer's eyes when he talks briefly about his up-coming album, the second one of his solo career. He loves to see Harry like that, with that type of happiness that only his work and his passion gives him. 

"Hey," Louis hears Jeffrey calling by his side, whispering. 

"Yeah?" He whispers back. 

"This was a good call. Fans are loving it." Jeffrey is grinning, looking down at his phone and showing it to Louis. It's Harry's post, the one with the picture of his gift. "Most of them, at least. But don't worry, yeah? It's lovely either way."

He nods and when the manager turns his attention away from him, Louis' grin deflates slowly.

His mind is drifting again, but not in a pleasant way. Questions are surrounding his thoughts, slightly overwhelming. 

He still haven't explored social media much, since his relationship with Harry became public. He hasn't read a single comment, made a single post, nor has he interacted with anyone on his profiles. The only person he still talks to on the phone is Niall. In fact, he's still waiting for his mother to call again. 

He tries to concentrate back on Harry's voice that echos through the set. He spots the shining necklace around his boyfriend's neck, and it makes him regain his breathing for a second. He shakes the worries away, at least for now, and manages to focus back on the interview.

Around fourty minutes later, the stunt is done, and Louis' knees are sore from bouncing his legs up and down anxiously. He sits patiently, waits for Harry to wrap up the interview and take pictures around the set, before the singer comes to the area behind the cameras to fetch him and to greet Jeffrey. 

Louis smiles at him, forcing it a bit, hoping Harry wouldn't notice. He doesn't want to worry his boyfriend with the concerns of his mind. "Hey love, all good?" He questioned.

Harry nods, hands on his hips. "Yeah, I have to go to the dressing room now, take off all this makeup and change clothes." 

"You finish that and meet me outside. I'll fix our rides to lunch." The manager says, leaving the couple before they head to the dressing room, in the very back of the set.

It's a small room amid a hundred others in a large hallway. There's another woman in the room with them, but she leaves a while after they entered. Louis recognized her as the responsible for Harry's makeup and hair, as they have met before on the studio. Harry is on a chair, in front of a mirror and using a small cotton pad to remove any remaining cosmetics on his skin. 

Louis is grinning towards the reflection of his boyfriend. It's involuntary, the way that just the sight of the singer makes his heart flutter. Harry glances back at him in the mirror, but instead of a smile in response, he shoots Louis a questioning look;

"Lou," He starts, wiping away more makeup remover on his cheekbones. "Are you alright?"

Louis is stunned by the question, although he expected Harry to sense that there's something in his mind. The singer is too sensitive not to notice. "Yeah, why d'you ask?" Louis lies. 

Harry looks down. "I don't know, you seem a bit off," He murmurs. Louis feels bad for hiding away his concerns, but it doesn't feel fair to place more pressure on Harry's shoulders, when he carries the weight of the world already. "Did I do something wrong?"

Louis' heart falters for a second. There's a frown in Harry's expression, distorted by the reflection in the mirror. "You did nothing wrong, love." The smaller man approaches his boyfriend, placing his hands on his shoulders, and placing a kiss on the top of his curls reassuringly. "I promise, okay?"

Harry's eyes soften then, and it's evident that he trusts Louis' words. "Okay,"

The couple exit the room after a long kiss, and they take the ride to a restaurant with Jeffrey afterwards.

It's a lovely establishment, private and small. Louis can tell that Harry's been there before, by the way he chooses a table with ease and orders without reading the menu. The three of them have a nice and casual meal, and when Jeffrey announces that Harry has no other plans for the day, Louis feels relief wash over his bones. 

Harry likes to take naps after lunchtime.

It's a habit that Louis finds incredibly endearing, specially when he's there with the singer, having an excuse to cuddle him in the middle of the day for an hour.

The hotel room is quiet, the windows are closed and the curtains are pulled to protect them from the overwhelming amount of light and noise. The TV is on, providing low background sounds against Harry's soft snores.

However, Louis doesn't manage to rest as easily as the man cuddled up on his lap, a head full of curls decorating the top of his thighs. He's wide awake, his chest is heaving and he wants to wake Harry up and ask him to say that they'll be alright, as he often does and it never fails to calm him down.

But he doesn't. 

Harry looks too peaceful, and it would be a crime to disturb him with such subjects.

Louis can't help but to feel stupid and superficial. He's worried about people's opinions about him, something that he's never really cared about before. At least, not as much as he does then.

He knows he's making a mistake when he picks up his phone from the nightstand and opens the Instagram app. He knows that he will hurt himself if he keeps scrolling. But, he does it anyway. He needs to know, to _see_ what his mom and Jeffrey saw. Also, to know what that guy that grabbed him a few days back was talking about.

_"What do you think about what the fans have been saying about you?"  
_

He's about to find out, and it doesn't bring him comfort.

He opens Harry's profile, finding the post he had made earlier that morning. He grins at the photo and glances down to see that Harry's still wearing the necklace.

When he opens the comment section, he notices that his heart is beating loudly inside his rib cage, and he's afraid that his boyfriend might wake up just from the sound alone.

A large part of the comments are lovely, words of love and support spreading across the screen. However, he finds the negativity extremely distracting, although he knows that it's overshadowed by the kindness from Harry's true fans.

_"I'm disappointed that Harry is dating this guy."_

_"He could do so much better."_

_"I'm proud that Harry came out, but with an ugly boyfriend like that, I don't know how he had the courage to do it."_

It's nothing besides words in a screen, opinions of people sheltered behind anonymous identities, hidden beneath masks. He shouldn't feel this affected, this anxious. It gets worse when he finds one specific profile, followed by another rude comment. The username gets his attention, it has his name with a swear word followed by it. He can barely read it, as his hands are trembling, fingers erratic on the screen.

It's an entire account, made specifically to hate on him. There's pictures of him, paparazzi shots, followed by rude captions and offensive words. Some are talking about his physical appearance, pointing at his insecurities, and some are referring to his personal life, where he used to work, where he came from. It's ironic; people that are suppose to hate him and yet, they spent so much time researching and finding out things about his life, almost like a fan does. Either way, it feels like they're touching his open wounds, or making it worse.

He drops his phone beside him after a while, his vision going blurry and his balance going dizzy with adrenaline, although he's sitting in bed.

Harry's head is still on his lap, resting easily. He glances down at the singer.

_He could do so much better._

He physically shudders at the remembrance of one of the comments, his trembling fingers drawing down to caress Harry's curls softly. It's what wakes him up eventually, much to Louis' dismay. He's certain that Harry will notice the unsettling of his mind.

Long arms are wrapping around his waist then, the singer's face pressed on his abdomen. 

_I'm disappointed that Harry is dating this guy._

"Lou?" He hears Harry say. It sounds muffled and distance. 

"Yeah?" He responds, maintaining the tone of his voice calm enough to speak.

"Hm," Harry hums. "Thought you were napping too."

"I'm not very tired, love." He comments. Harry kisses his thigh then, and it makes him frustrated that now, he's questioning Harry's signs of affection towards him. "How'd you sleep?"

_Harry deserves better._

"Always good by your side," Harry says, smiling up at his lover. 

Louis, however doesn't notice the gesture. His eyes look hazy, and his heart is still beating fast. Harry easily perceives Louis' disquiet expression, and sits up on the bed. "Hey," He calls. 

Louis looks at him, snapping out of his thoughts. "M'sorry, what did you say?"

"Are you sure you're alright, Lou?" Harry questions worryingly. 

The smaller man swallows a lump in his throat and breathes in heavily. He nods, lying through his teeth. "Yeah, just, ahn," He stumbles over his words and begins to get out of bed. 

Harry watches, confused. "Where are you going?"

"To the bathroom, be back soon," Louis says, and rushes to the large bathroom. He doesn't look back at Harry, afraid that he would find a disappointed expression on the singer's features. 

He locks the door once inside, and avoids the mirror while he washes his face with cold water, wanting to get the unnerving thoughts out of his head, out of _him._ He hates how easily his anxiety takes control, how it commands simple acts of his day, how it takes the best of him and makes him doubt everything he's been sure of before.

He lets cold droplets run down his features, before he wipes it away with a facecloth, breathing deeply, and exiting the bathroom.

He's already planning on what to say to Harry and how to explain his odd behavior, when he looks across the room and finds Harry looking down at his phone. 

_His phone_. He forgot to lock his phone. 

"L-Louis," He hears Harry muttering, almost to himself. He rushes to the bed and tries to get the phone out of Harry's hands, but the singer is faster as he pulls away and continues to peer over the screen. 

"Harry, don't-"

"Is that why you're acting strange all day?" Harry asks, and there's anger on his voice, but it's not directed to Louis and he knows it. He's only seem Harry like that back when he got mobbed by those aggressive paparazzi's. "Have you been feeding yourself with this bullshit?"

Louis stands defeated on the foot of the bed. Harry locks his eyes on Louis's frame, and there's a mixture of emotions on his features. Louis feels like he wants to cry, but he doesn't, biting his lips. "No, I haven't-"

"Then what's this?" The singer questions, pointing to the phone on his hands. 

"I just saw it, for the first time." Louis explains. "I haven't been on social media since those pictures of us in your mom's house came out. But, I don't know, lately I've been curious to know what people have to say,"

He doesn't find more words or explanations. He can't find the strength to unwind the tangled confusion on his mind. He recognizes he's emotionally drained, just from minutes of looking at direct hate and negativity towards himself. 

He understands it now, why Harry is so private, why he's barely active on social media. He can see it in Harry's eyes, the discontent and the familiarity to the online hate. 

"This isn't healthy, Louis. You said it yourself before." Harry says, frustration in his tone. He realizes that Harry was trying to protect him from the ugly side of his world. He can tell by the way his voice breaks when he speaks, almost guilty by how he's feeling. "You don't believe in any of it, do you?"

Louis looks down, not having the reply that Harry wanted. "I don't know, Haz," He doesn't realize he's shaking until he sees it, the way his hands are trembling on his sides. When he lifts his head again, Harry is right in front of him, large hands on his shoulders.

He thinks Harry looks beautiful, if not for the blinding concern in his emerald eyes. "Promise me you won't look for hate again. You don't deserve this,"

_Louis doesn't deserve Harry._

He blinks the intrusive thought away. "I-I know," He stutters, trying to find reassurance within himself. He bits his lips harder, fighting tears. He hates crying, it makes his anxiety spike and release all at once. He wants to be in control of his feelings, of his breathing, even though it feels like he's being delusional.

Harry, on the other hand, doesn't fight the feeling as his eyes water. "Promise me." He insists. 

"I promise I won't look for it anymore." Louis swallows. He wants to dissipate and become nothing but the silver jewelry melting into Harry's collarbones. That's when he loses his battle within, and begins to cry. It's quiet, silent, the way tears are falling down his cheeks, being caught by Harry's fingers, lacing around his face. "I'm sorry, please don't be mad at me-" Louis says, voice broken.

The dark room witness Harry's expression shifting, from concerned and angry to reassuring and gentle. "No, baby, I'm not mad at you. I'm angry at everyone but you." He explains. 

"I'm so stupid. I shouldn't have-"

"Don't start that now, Lou," Harry warns, but it's so tender and loving that Louis nods and glances up. Harry is quiet for a few seconds, his eyes scrambling the room, as if looking for something, then, "How about we have a bath, yeah? Get our minds out of this, relax a bit-"

Louis complies, having no emotional energy left to do anything else.

The couple head to the bathroom, Harry guiding Louis and getting towels. When Louis asks to turn the lights down low while they're undressing, he sighs and a twinge of sadness flashes by his eyes.

The sound of the warm water filling the bathtub is comforting, somehow. It feels like there's something waiting for him, for _them,_ something good, warm and cozy. The bathroom is dimmed, bathing in low lights when they enter the tub carefully. It's large enough for both of them to spread out and use the space, but Harry pulls Louis in closer, pressing his smaller back to his chest, long legs trapping him into the embrace.

Louis relaxes, leaning against Harry, letting the warm water soak his worries away. He doesn't feel like crying anymore, but there's a hint of disappointment that haunts his veins; he hates to cry.

It's Harry that breaks the silence, his deep voice echoing inside the bathroom, even though he's just whispering on Louis' ear. "When I was sixteen, after I was put into the band, I began doing the same thing you just did." He started. Louis opened his eyes, locking his gaze on the high ceiling. "I used to do it every night, as crazy as it sounds. I would fall asleep with all that hate in my mind. I thought it made me stronger, enduring the negativity, but it wasn't. It never did. It never will, Louis."

Louis feels the need to say something, but he doesn't. 

Harry proceeds, "It took me years to realize that I was hurting so bad that I was numb. It's one of those things that you don't realize it's killing you until you're already deep down and drowning. That's why I'm telling you now."

Louis nods against his boyfriend's chest. Their heartbeats are in sync. 

"How are you feeling, Lou?"

He sighs. "Disappointed in myself."

Harry hugs him tighter, making small waves on the water around them. "Don't be. You don't have any reasons to be thinking any less of yourself."

Louis wants to contradict, to point out the dozens of reasons why he believes that he, in fact, should be incredibly disappointed and frustrated with himself. But he doesn't for Harry's sake, and his own.

He nods instead, and allows his head to fall back into Harry's shoulder. The singer presses kisses on the side of his jaw, endless little pecks that warms up his skin. "You're so beautiful, Louis. Inside and out. I can't help but to be so endeared by you and everything you do."

Louis smiles genuinely, and it feels good. He blushes, incredulous, "I say the same for you and more, but words aren't enough."

"Then don't say a thing." Harry says tenderly. "Kiss me instead."

So Louis does, because Harry is the only reason why he's smiling then.


	21. Chapter 21

The rest of the week passed smoothly and mostly uneventful. 

The couple fell into a lovely routine, which consisted in Louis tagging along in any kind of activities that Harry was suppose to be doing in order to fulfill his job's schedule. 

From interviews to recording sessions at the studio, Harry found comfort in Louis' presence during uncomfortable settings that came quite often with his public figure. All he had to do was look behind the cameras and spot his favorite pair of cerulean eyes glancing back at him, and then nothing else mattered.

However, Louis is starting to believe that Harry is up to something. The singer is having a fair amount of private meetings, and to that, Louis isn't surprised. The fact that Harry doesn't tell him a single word about what is being discussed with his team is what's crawling under his skin.

He usually tells Louis everything, even to simply vent about the boredom of those meetings, but this time particularly, he doesn't spare a word and does a terrible job at pretending that nothing important was being discussed behind doors.

Louis didn't push though. For that, Harry was grateful, up until he bough Louis along to one of the meetings.

The smaller man glances around, feeling out of place inside the business building. Long hallways held numerous office doors, people in suits and formal clothing pacing around. Of course, Harry stood out more than he did himself, with his bright boots and graphic t-shirt. 

Louis simply couldn't let go of Harry's hand even if he wanted to. Not only the space was intimidating, but he feels incredibly nervous once they slid into one particular room, finding nothing but a big table, several chairs and people that Louis recognizes as Harry's management team. A face brought him the familiarity he needed; Jeffrey shot him an excited smile, and soon the anxiety in his bones faded slightly as they took a seat.

"Hello Mr. Tomlinson, is glad to finally meet you," An unknown man holds out his hand for Louis to shake across the table. He shook the man's hand unhesitatingly. Louis feels even more dislocated after being addressed by his last name, but he decides to not call out on it for now, as much as he wants to. "I'm Josh, head of Harry's employment team."

The information catches Louis off guard, but he smiles politely and nods, agreeing blindly to whatever is being announced. "Nice to meet you, sir." He replies. Harry's presence by his side is the only thing keeping him grounded and afloat on the interaction. 

The man - Josh - notices the bewilderment in Louis' face after he realizes he's being treated as the focal point of the meeting. 

Josh then gestures to a few papers on the table next to him, as if the materials' existence explained his presence in the room. "Well, the reason we asked Harry to bring you here today is because we are interested in hiring you on our creative team."

Louis blinks, eyes darting across the empty glass table. He glances at a grinning Josh, "What-" He starts to say, but doesn't find the proper words to finish his question appropriately.

The head of the team proceeds to explain; "I know you must be confused. We also requested that Harry wouldn't share any information about the process, since contracts like these are often unstable, so to speak." It doesn't lighten up Louis' puzzling expression. He breathes, "Don't worry, this is not an interview, nor it is a selective process. Your contracts are ready, if you accept the position, you just have to fill the forms and sign under the label."

Louis glances aside; Harry has a big smile plastered on his face, in fact, he's biting his lips to stop himself from smile even further. The sight alone soothes Louis' concerns. "Ahn, alright," He grins, opening his mouth to say something, closing it, then opening again. "May I ask what is the position?"

He glances up at Josh. There's too many eyes on him then, and Harry must have noticed the discomfort growing in his face, because the singer is the one who answers unhesitatingly; "Songwriter." He informs with amusement and a beaming expression. 

"Is this why you haven't been telling me anything for the past week?" 

Louis' sudden and personal question makes the room light up with laughs and amused chuckles. The tension in his muscles fade away then, as the room starts to hold a less formal atmosphere, carrying now the easy-going tone that he prefers.

"I'm sorry?" Harry smiles, shrugging. 

The room continues to echo the chuckles, until Josh speaks again with a smile of his own. "Those are the papers, we'll leave you to read it, and if you agree with all the topics, just sign it. Harry provided us with bits and pieces of lyrics that you assisted him to write, and we are assured that you have the talent. We would love to have you on the team, Mr. Tomlinson."

Louis looks up at the man and grins loosely. "Call me Louis, please," He requests, losing the timid and hesitant tone from before. 

"Of course. Well, we'll leave you to it." 

"Thank you." Louis appreciates as Josh hands him the papers, circling the table along with the rest of his team, and exiting the small room.

As soon as the door is closed and he's alone with Harry, he playfully punches his boyfriend's shoulder. "You bastard!" He mutters, although Harry's laughter is loud and can most certainly be heard from outside.

"I wanted to leave it as a surprise, I'm sorry!" The singer adds, continuing to chuckle as he grabs ahold of Louis' wrist and placing a gentle kiss in his knuckles. "Did you like it, at least?"

The smaller man glances at the papers and has to resist the urge to kiss his lover right there. "I thought I was about to get sued, but yeah, I liked it." He says, looking up to bright emerald eyes. "Thank you for this, you know how this is important for me. Having a job, and all that."

"Yeah, I know," Harry nods, still caressing the skin of his wrist and tickling his palm with his finger. It's a simple touch, but the fact that it doesn't break apart easily makes Louis' heart skip a bit. "Do I earn a kiss?"

Louis fakes a pondering expression "Maybe," 

Of course, it doesn't take long before he's kissing Harry, fingers lacing around his jaw.

Twenty minutes later and barely any reading to the actual words printed in the papers in their hands, Louis signs the contract, and exits the room as an official songwriter.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Harry doesn't partake often in parties, but after leaving the office building with Louis' hand tightly inside of his and with a huge smile on his face, he can't help the need to celebrate in some way. 

Louis feels like a kid when they reach the hotel room again, the private atmosphere behind the closed door being enough for him to allow himself to feel all the excitement from the recent events. Harry is chuckling softly while Louis calls Niall, telling him all about his newest job. The Irish lad is obviously excited for him, and even though he's at work, he remains on the call for as long as Louis is talking and letting him into the updates of his life. 

The afternoon is warm and colorful as it fades into the evening, the rest of their day being completely freed from any other scheduled activities, until Harry suggests it.

"You want to go out tonight?" He says, muttering from where his head is resting Louis' lap.

The smaller man glances down, tangling his fingers on the man's curls. Harry's hair is getting long, and he decides that he likes it. "As in a date?"

Harry shrugs, "More like a party."

Louis can't help the amused and surprised chuckle that leaves his throat. "Harry Styles on a party? Now that's something."

"Hey, I'm great at parties, just so you know." The singer lets out with a exaggerated sight.

Louis bends down to press a kiss to his boyfriend's forehead. "I'm messing with you, love. We can definitely go out tonight, if you're in the mood for it."

That's all the confirmation that Harry needs before he picks his phone to text his manager.

The ride to the place is quiet, the calm before the storm they encounter when the couple exit the car and into the building. The space in which the party is being held at is enormous, with high walls and mirrors reflecting lights that bathe the place in color.

Louis doesn't know whose party it is, if there's even a celebration happening, but he decides that he doesn't care and all that matters then is Harry's ringed fingers tightly wrapped around his own. He feels safe and incredibly comfortable when they pace inside the large structure, and all the faces he's coming across so far are of celebrities, socialites he's seen on social media and a few other famous identities he's recognizing.

Of course, no one compares to Harry, how his long legs are carrying them both through the area, tight jeans and a stamped shirt that he's certain fans would go crazy over once pictures of that night got released.

Louis hears a faint bass thundering the floor beneath their feet, and he can tell that Harry is attempting to find the nearest bar. It's quite hard to be able to cross a large space when Harry is stopping every ten seconds to greet a known face. He's so charismatic and kind that Louis himself can't contain his own smiles. Being introduced as Harry's boyfriend has a warm, familiar tone, and yet, it brings a rush to his heart.

They manage to reach the bar a few moments later. It's a beautiful place, large counters and neon lights. Bottles of alcohol decorate the walls and Harry's dimple is emphasized by cold tones of color.

"I'll get our orders, don't get lost." Harry announces, muttering against his lover's temple. The noise of people's voices around isn't loud enough for Louis to miss the words.

He nods in response and pecks his boyfriend's lips. "I'll try."

The singer then disappears into the mass of people, leaving Louis alone in a stool by the bar. It doesn't take much longer before Harry shows up again, with two drinks in his hands and another man next to him. Louis almost doesn't recognize him due to the dimmed lights around them, but as soon as the pair reach him, he instantly identifies the man.

"Lou, here," Harry hands him his drink, before turning to the tall man beside him. "This is Liam, by the way. He's-"

"Your band-mate, yeah," Louis completes, earning a bright smile from the man - Liam. "Nice to meet you, I'm Louis." The smaller man offers a handshake, which the singer takes quickly and enthusiastically.

He has deep, brown eyes that hold nothing but kindness, and his smile breaks the intimidating character of his serious expression. "Hi! I'm Liam. Harry has been talking about you for a while now, so, it's great to finally meet you!" He beams; his voice is deep and his tone is excited.

Louis glances over at Harry, who is smiling at the interaction. Louis winks at him quickly, before turning his attention back to Liam.

As it turns out, Louis and Liam end up connecting almost instantly; they have a lot of traits in common and the singer is just as nice and down to Earth as Harry is. He shares stories of him and Harry back when they were together in the band, touring around the world and performing every night.

For Louis, it's lovely to hear about his lover through another point of view, to learn more about him every day. There's always something new and beautiful about him, how everyone that he had met so far have nothing but good things to say about Harry.

The singer has his arm wrapped around his waist protectively as they talk, pulling him closer every few minutes, quietly reminding Louis that he's there. It brings him comfort, and he makes sure to steal a few glances at his gorgeous boyfriend every now and then.

A few drinks later and the three of them are already tipsy, finding their balance slightly off as they head into the dance room, where even more famous people are inserted in. Louis forgets about his hesitance and shyness and allows himself to enjoy every moment then, dancing his soul away with Harry, singing at the top of his lungs and getting more drinks with Liam. 

However, he stops drinking and starts to take water instead when he realizes that Harry is drunk. It's amusing, how the awkwardly tall man holds his liquor. "Lou!" He hears the singer call, a large hand around his arm on the middle of the dance-floor. "You wanna do some karaoke?" He offers, slurring his words out.

Louis laughs out loud, drawing his head back and almost hitting Liam's drink out of his hand with the gesture. "I'm too shy for that, love." Louis smiles, pulling his lover closer. 

"Well, I'm not!" Harry says, and then he's pulling Louis away from the mass of people.

Louis looks back and shoots a glance to Liam, whose laughing now at the couple's interaction and Harry's unapologetic drunkenness. The smaller man fights his way amid the crowd, following Harry to the back to the room, where a small stage is set with microphones and sound boxes. 

He watches the singer talk to someone on the stage, and then all the lights are on him, the music is fading out and his deep, slurring voice takes place inside the room. 

"Good evening everyone, I hope you're all having a good time!" He says into a microphone, and Louis begins to wonder if he made a mistake not stopping Harry from heading to the karaoke. The loud cheering that echos through the space takes away his concerns. Even intoxicated, Harry know show to work with a crowd.

He continues then; "I'd like to ask you to grab your loved one now, and if you don't have one, grab a friend or something," He says, fumbling with the cord of his microphone. Louis hears more cheers, as he stands in front of the small stage and looks up with bright eyes. He's sure that Harry would be the highlight of the room, even if he wasn't on stage then. 

"This is a special song. I hope you know the words." He adds. Green eyes are dark underneath the spotlights when he looks at Louis. "This is 'You're Still The One'." 

Louis' heart skips a beat when familiar chords begin to play. He can't tear his eyes apart from Harry, not when he begins to sing and bounce around slightly, not when the crowd is loud, or even when he feels bodies colliding with his accidentally. 

He couldn't look away even if he wanted to. It's his harmonious voice, his essence, everything about him that makes Louis want to collapse, in the best way possible. He's certain that he's down already, far from collapsing, fallen all the way down; all for Harry. 

He wouldn't change a thing.

When the song is almost ending, Harry kneels by the edge of the stage, still singing, and offers a hand out towards Louis. He takes it without thinking twice, and before he knows, he's on the stage too, under spotlights and hundreds of unknown gazes.

However, nothing else matters, because when the song ends, Harry pulls him into a kiss that has the crowd cheering loudly. 

Louis feels on top of the world, the universe, even. Harry has that magic in him.

A few hours after that, Louis is already sober and Harry is still drunk, when Liam announces that he's leaving, and the couple decides to head out too. Exiting the building is hard; there's a mass of fans outside, but luckily, Liam takes the attention away from the couple as they quickly enter the car and ride back to the hotel.

"Loueh," Harry mutters as Louis guides him past the room's door, locking it behind them. "I had a lot of fun tonight." He states, earning a chuckle from Louis.

The smaller man plants a kiss on the top of his nose. "Me too, love. I liked Liam, by the way, he's cool, isn't he?" 

Harry drops on the bed, his long limbs spreading on the mattress. "D'you think he's cooler than me?" The singer slurs, lifting his head from the sheets and glancing at Louis, curls all over the place.

"No one is cooler than you." Louis responds, shooting his an amused smile. 

Harry smiles back, content with the answer. "I'm tired." He informs.

"I know love, but you have to sober up before we go to bed, yeah? Wouldn't want you waking up hungover." Louis speaks as he's grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge, walking back towards the bed. "Here. I'll prepare you a nice bath and then we can go to sleep, alright?"

"Alright." The singer hums and takes the water bottle. He sits up on the bed. "Lou, c'mere." He calls as Louis is heading to the bathroom.

The smaller man complies, pacing towards his boyfriend and stopping to stand in between his bent knees on the bed. "Yeah?" He draws his hands up and caress the skin exposed by the holes in Harry's jeans. 

"Thank you for the night. It was amazing and I want to do it again, for the rest of our lives." Although he's slurring and blinking slowly, Louis can tell the truth behind his words.

He doesn't word out his response, but kisses Harry instead, loving and sweet, before he finishes his water and guides him to the bathroom.

When Harry wakes up the next morning, he's not hungover. He feels awake, a bit tired still and with sore limbs, but completely fine regardless. 

The singer doesn't mind to check the time, or to move his body out of bed. 

Louis is asleep still, smaller body curled up next to his, bathing in warm sunlight that invades the room through the edges of the closed blinders. He's stunned by Louis' beauty, and how he's completely unaware of it, utterly oblivious to the sight of himself, lying on the thin line of perfection.

Harry doesn't know how long he spent caressing his boyfriend's cheekbones, tangling his long fingers on his chestnut, soft hair, before Louis flutters his eyelids open.

His eyes are so blue that Harry's breath hitches at the revelation of the sight. 

"Hm," Louis hums, curling up closer to Harry. He doesn't say, but he feels slightly embarrassed being under Harry's gaze, thinking that he looks ridiculous right after he wakes up. Harry couldn't disagree more. "What are you doing?" He mutters against the skin of Harry's neck. 

"Just looking at you." Harry responds, smiling tenderly. It's warm and beautiful, how soft he is beneath waves of sheets. 

Influenced completely by Louis in his awakening state, Harry scribbles a song in his mind. He's certain that he could write an entire album just dedicated to the sight of his boyfriend right then.


	22. Chapter 22

Working with Harry is a routine that falls all too perfectly for Louis.

It's the bliss of his day, to be able to sit with Harry and his wonderful team of songwriters and write out ideas, concepts, and just scribble sentences and words that pop into his brain, and building up a beautiful song from that. 

The bureaucracy of copyrights is a matter that Louis avoids at all costs, and for that, he's grateful for having Jeffrey working alongside him and making sure that his name is present in most of the songs he helps writing.

In fact, Harry's team is impressed with Louis' talent, his ability of putting together words and terms that sound so beautiful and well-constructed. Harry had even gifted with an small notebook, similar to his own, where he could write whenever he felt like it. Louis _\- obviously -_ had loved it, and hasn't stopped writing and doodling all over the pages even since.

His favorite days are the ones that he gets to spend in the comfort of their hotel room, stumbling around the furniture tiredly and watching Harry do the most domestic of activities while he sits in a corner and writes about it. 

It's too easy for Louis to find inspiration when it is waking up right next to him every morning, and falling asleep with every night. 

That's where they find themselves then; sprawled and shirtless inside the privacy of their room. The TV is on, but it's muted, and the only sound in the room is Harry's guitar, playing softly in sweet chords that bounce off the walls. 

The singer is humming random tunes and rhythms, creating melodies out of his head, fiddling with the strings of his instrument and sitting a reclined armchair in the corner. Louis sits on the bed, across from where Harry is, notebook in hands as he glances over his lover under the midday sun. 

It's their last day in Nashville; Harry has been requested to participate in a few stunts in New York later that week. 

Although Louis isn't familiarized at all with any American state, he's certain that he will miss the humid weather of Tennessee, the rush of the southeast state, and the magic lights of the huge city. However, he's excited to reach the northeastern area and meet the famous sights and locations there. Mostly, he's thrilled to be able to experience all of it with Harry.

"Lou?" He hears the voice echoing amid the sounds of the guitar. 

He glances away from his notebook, away from his own deep pondering, and meets Harry's figure. "Yeah?"

The singer smiles through the chords. "What are you thinking about over there?" 

Louis sighs.

He stands up, leaving the bed and the notebook behind, and walks towards his lover. He removes the guitar from Harry's hands gently, places it on the mattress, and straddles Harry's lap, wrapping both arms about the singer's broad shoulders. "I was thinking about you." He responds in a whisper, touching their foreheads.

He fights the blush that creeps his cheeks when he feels Harry's hands fly up his thighs, tenderly gripping his muscles. "What a coincidence. I was thinking about you too." Harry says in a hoarse voice, his breath brushing Louis' exposed collarbones.

The smaller man shivers slightly. Harry looks too good, shirtless and under him, untamed curls on the top of his head, framing his carved features. Louis closes the distance between them, connecting their lips in a heated kiss. 

Harry's hands fly to his waist, curvy and delicate under the dense air. He doesn't realize that his heart is beating fast until the singer's fingers reach his chest, and he chuckles amid the kiss at the thundering sound of his heartbeat. Harry is quick to capture Louis' thighs inside his arms and pull them up from the armchair, walking towards the free space in the mattress and gently laying Louis there, bending down to avoid breaking the deep kiss.

It turns heated fast, when hands are all over exposed torsos and hips connected, slow circles causing them both to groan and sigh sharply at the delicacy of the moment. Harry is the one that breaks the kiss then, arms holding himself up above Louis, who has his legs wrapped around the taller man's slim waist. 

Louis open his eyes, revealing the wonderful sight of Harry's blown eyes and long hair falling down above him. 

"I could eat you up, you know that?" Harry mutters in a rough whisper that has Louis' back arching off the bed, a shiver creeping up his spine like electricity. 

Long fingers are tracing, grasping his ribs and hips. Louis moans quietly. "Please-"

"Please, what?" Harry teases, a smile on his face. It's a sensual smirk, going from sweet to lustful dangerously quick.

"Want-" Louis swallows. "Want _you_."

"I've got you, baby," Harry praises, lowering himself to pepper kisses along the man's tattooed collarbones, nibbling softly at the sensible points of his neck, already mapped out in his mind. "Tell me what you need," He whispers against Louis' jaw.

Louis flutters his eyes closed, overwhelmed by his boyfriend's voice, his touch, his body displayed above him, pinning him down in the best way possible. It's so easy for him to submit, to allow himself to drown in the deep ocean that is Harry. He mutters, "Need you, your fingers-"

The last part of his sentence makes Harry lift up from his neck and glance down at his lover with careful eyes. "Is that what you want, baby? Want my fingers in you?"

Louis looks up. He nods, but upon realizing that it's something new for them, he decides to word out his consent, "Y-yeah, _please,_ " He groans, voice already ruined.

Harry nods too, smiling sweetly and bending down again to kiss his jaw. Louis isn't nervous, but there's a subtle thrill in his gut. He's never had this, something in him, and Harry knows. He trusts Harry, and he wanted this, he might as well have _planned it_ , so he isn't shaking or trembling when Harry reaches for the nightstand and grabs the lube. 

And if he does shake, it's because of the overwhelming amount of pleasure that shoots up his body when Harry touches his hardening cock under his trousers. "So beautiful, Lou," He praises, fingers hooking on the edge of his pants to pull them down.

Louis glances down, watching his cock get freed from the clothed restraints. He notices Harry's erection under his shorts, and when he makes a move to reach his lover's crotch, a hand comes to stop him.

"Don't worry about me," Harry says, bringing his smaller hand up, beside his head, "Wanna make this all about you."

Louis' too aroused to complain, and yet, he tries, "But-"

Harry shuts him with a kiss. When he pulls away, Louis swears he tastes honey and lemongrass coating his lips. "Wanna watch you enjoy yourself on my fingers, yeah?"

He complies then, and allows his worries to dissipate from his mind, until there's nothing but want and lust clouding his thoughts.

Harry is delicate, careful; he's peppering kisses along his boyfriend's tummy, slowly trailing down his navel, until he's planting open-mouth kisses on the base of Louis' cock. The smaller man finds himself deep down into the mattress, arching his body towards Harry, strings of breathy moans decorating the atmosphere around them. 

He loses count on how many times he begs for Harry to touch him, to do something that isn't so delicate, and he realizes it is exactly what Harry wants; he wants him begging, on the brim of arousal, before he does anything.

So, Louis gives in, lost completely under Harry's control and teasing, until he feels it; the wet, warm liquid that trails down his most sensible area. He gasps, and hears Harry's chuckle above him. 

"So responsive," Harry says tenderly, and fixates his gaze on Louis' expression, twisted in pleasure, when he wraps a hand around his cock and touches him down there at the same time.

" _Oh-_ " Louis' eyes flutter open at the sensations, and finds Harry's predatory, yet so sweet gaze above him. Harry is doing exactly what he promised, eating him up completely, and nothing in the world could possibly feel better than this.

"Need you to relax, can you do that for me?" Harry asks, so sweet that he sees honey dripping off his boyfriend's plump, parted lips. 

He nods and sighs, placing both arms relaxed beside his body. He reaches and manages to touch Harry's thigh, dipping the edge of the bed between his legs. It barely grazes the skin there, but it grounds him to the point where he relaxes completely, and manages to enjoy the touching and the tugging of his hard cock all together. 

Harry's finger is circling him, threatening to make an entrance, working his tight skin. It feels good, _too_ good, he believes. It's the vulnerability and the thrill he didn't know he needed, not until he's already at the edge, ready for the jump.

When Harry's fingertip manages to work its way past his rim, he gasps again, but it's controlled and he still relaxed. He looks up, and Harry's glancing down at him, eyes blow with lust and coated concern. He nods at him, offering the reassurance the man needed before moving further.

He presses in then, and Louis doesn't know how his own fingers are grasping the sheets so tight that it almost rips. Harry's hand on his cock is giving the pleasure that follows with the intrusion, and he feels _so full_ already that he can only wonder how it would feel having Harry inside him eventually. 

"Lou?" He hears Harry's voice calling, but it sounds distant, muffled. 

He glances up through parted eyelids. "It's good, Haz-" He mumbles, hoping that it would encourage Harry to move the stable finger inside him.

It does, and Harry pulls out slightly, pressing back inside in succession. Louis groans; it _burns_ , but he likes it somehow, the pressing in the the fullness of just one digits. "Oh my _God_ -"

Harry doesn't stop his maneuvers, thrusting the lone finger in and out slowly, dragging it out to a comfortable pace. He is loving it just as much as Louis; watching the smaller man falling apart with such a simple touch, his chest heaving and delicate legs spread, exposing delicate and plump curves. Louis is beautiful, the most alluring man he's ever laid eyes on, and he almost can't believe that such a sweet creature is moaning beneath his hands.

"Haz-" Louis whispers, and Harry stops suddenly. 

"Yeah? Does it hurt? Want to stop?" He asks concerned.

Louis shakes his head, smiling. _"Want more,"_ He requests, and it makes Harry groan low in his throat. It's a lovely sight, Louis asking for more under his control, eyes full of tears that gather on the corner of his long lashes. 

Harry complies then, ignoring completely the weight of his own erection on his pants. He focus on his hands, and applies more lube on Louis before carefully adding another finger. He continues to stroke Louis' cock through the insertion, moaning quietly at how tight and hot Louis feels around his digits.

Louis sobs in pleasure when Harry twists his fingers and bend them on a certain angle; a sharp, warm wave shoots up his navel, pooling at the bottom of his spine. He looks straight at Harry, hands grasping on the duvet like his life depends on it. 

"Harry!" He moans out, louder than he intended, but he doesn't care if his voice is bouncing off the walls, because Harry is smiling hugely above him, and his prostate is being massaged ceaselessly.

The singer is watching him, pinning him down with just a gaze. It's intoxicating. "Right there, yeah? _God,_ Louis, you look so _fucking_ good, so beautiful,"

Harry doesn't stop moving his fingers, wanting to give Louis the best of the experience, skipping all the teasing because Louis looks too good while falling apart. He strokes his cock faster, not missing the beads of precum that gathers at the tip of his hard member. "Wanna watch you come just like this, Lou,"

Louis whines, dropping his head on the mattress and arching his back; he feels like he's about to explode. It's overwhelming, the first touch so deep down within himself that he doesn't know how he managed to stay so long without trying it. 

But, Harry is there, and it's Harry that's touching him and making his veins fill with fire and desire. His fingers are merciless, and his hand feels too good snaked around his cock, that he can't help but to feel the beginning of his orgasm building up. 

_"Harry,"_ He looks up at his boyfriend, receiving an predatory gaze in response. It does nothing but to fuel his release. "I'm gonna come, Haz, please, _please-_ "

He doesn't know what he's begging for, but he does it anyway, and that's how he falls apart completely. He's being stimulated from all the possible ways, and still, it's Harry's green eyes and parted lips that provides him the final push. 

Throwing his head back, he comes hard, strings of come painting his chest and Harry's hand, pooling on his abdomen. His body is pliant, his insides feel like fire, the slow thrust of Harry's long fingers are drawing his orgasm way longer than it usual. 

It's overwhelming, and yet, not enough, because he comes down from his high and glances at Harry with such hunger that the taller man feels the immediate need to submit.

As soon as Harry's fingers are out of him, slowly pulled out, he is quick to wipe his come away with a towel, already placed on the nightstand - he _planned_ it, after all - and grasp Harry's hips, flipping him so that the singer is now under him, curls spread on the dirty sheets.

"So good, love," Louis whispers, breathing erratically from the recent orgasm. He lowers his lips to suck on Harry's sweet spot, right under his jaw. Harry doesn't have to ask, or to beg, because Louis reads him too easily. He blows his boyfriend, quick and dirty, sloppy and still so perfectly that Harry comes down his throat in no time. 

They lay on the messy mattress, chests heaving and hearts thundering loudly in the silence of the room. Harry pulls the smaller man into a cuddle that lasts until they have enough energy to get into the shower. 

The bathroom is full of steam and the lights are turned down low, and Louis can still spot Harry's features, his softness and his soaked skin; he laces his hands around the taller man's jaw, resting their foreheads together, finding comfort and all the words they don't need to say under the sound of water.

It's the next day, on the early hours of the morning when Harry wakes up first and struggles to get Louis out of bed. 

He decides to let his boyfriend sleep a bit longer while he gathers their luggage, leaving out a change of clothes for Louis and ordering coffee, which they take quickly before heading out to the airport.

The ride is quiet and calm. Louis rests his head on Harry's shoulder, falling in and out of sleep, still tired from not being used to waking up before sunrise. The sky is beginning to gain light when they reach the airport. Luckily, there's barely any fans waiting for them. Still Harry takes a few minutes giving attention to the few people there, before the couple walk through check in and the security.

"How long is the flight?" Louis asks, voice and tone still drowsy.

Harry shifts in his seat, pulling up the armrest between them. "Around two hours."

Louis nods, eyes closed and lips pursued. Harry contains his giggles at how adorable he thinks that Louis looks. "Alright then, goodnight." The smaller man says simply, and leans in towards Harry.

The singer places his coat on his shoulder, draws Louis closer and allows his boyfriend to sleep on him during the entire flight. Harry himself takes a few naps, waking up to the smell of Louis' shampoo and smiling every time.

When they arrive, the sun is already completely out in the sky, bright and early still. He doesn't wake Louis before the landing, but he jolts awake at the sudden turbulence anyways, and Harry has to wrap his arm around his boyfriend and plant kisses on his hair to calm him down from his slight panic.

The airport in New York is for sure more crowded. As soon as they exit the plane, the couple is informed that there's a rather large gathering of fans outside the building. Luckily, Louis feels more awake and believes that he can actually look presentable to Harry's fans this time.

Their ride is waiting between a mass of people. They cheer and scream when Harry comes into view, surrounded by bodyguards still. Louis, already growing used to the routine, remains beside a bodyguard, aware of vulnerability this time. There's fences around the exit, where fans are pressed against and calling out for Harry.

The singer is smiling when he approaches the people, and Louis trails behind quietly, until he hears a group of girls yelling his name from somewhere in the mass. He glances around and finds it; a few young women waving towards him. 

He waves back and they smile. He sighs and finds enough confidence and courage in himself to approach. The girls are lovely, asking for hugs and one even requested to take a picture with him, which he agreed. Harry's fan-base is kind, mostly, and the girls he interacts with are sweet as they are praising him and thanking him for making Harry happy. 

Louis enters their ride a few minutes later, still feeling the bubbling happiness inside his chest. He feels accepted, loved. It's a reassurance he didn't know he needed until it materialized right in front of him in the form of lovely fans.

Harry takes notice of his smile when he enters the car before it drives off. "What's up?"

Louis shoots him a glance, licking his lips and lacing their hands together on top of his lap. "Some girls back there were really nice to me."

Harry's expression is beaming, then. Bright emerald eyes taking him in, dimples emphasized by the morning sun that takes place outside. "That's great to know," The singer mutters, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend's temple as they watch New York materialize from the window.

Louis is stunned by the sights, the large streets that are already rushed and alive during such early hours of the morning. He takes a few pictures and sends to Niall, who seems overly excited about his friend's whereabouts. He's sending Louis a list of presents and souvenirs that he wants, and Louis can't help but chuckle behind his phone's screen. 

The driver finishes their ride about half an hour later, parking in front of a building that resembles a warehouse, with beautiful arched doors and maroon bricks.

"We're here." Harry announces, gesturing for Louis to exit the car. 

Once they enter the building with their bags, Harry smiles at Louis inside the elevator. "What?" Louis asks.

"You're beautiful." Harry mutters simply.

Louis conceals his blushed cheeks poorly, shaking his head with a smirk and a roll of his eyes. The singer chuckles as they leave the elevator, and met with a large wooden door. Harry pulls out a pair of keys and Louis realizes that it's not a hotel at all; it's Harry's place.

It's a three-bedroom loft, decorated simply with wooden furniture and soft tones that reminds him of his own apartment, back in Manchester. There's a large kitchen area and round windows, connecting the living-room to a dinning space, and a wide corridor to the bedrooms. 

They barely make it inside and Louis is already wandering the loft, pacing through the echos of his feet inside the place. He stops by a window at the end of the hallway, large and bright despite it being simple. He stands there, eyes lost into the wide view of the city. It's not a rooftop view, but it's enough for him to feel the freedom that Harry talks so much about. 

He breathes in the unfamiliar scents of the apartment and feels strong arms snaking around his frame, embracing him from behind and placing kisses on the side of his jaw. 

They don't say anything. New York steal their words away and leaves nothing but a trace of something great lingering in the air between them.


	23. Chapter 23

"Do you know what I love about New York?" Harry speaks, voice almost lost within the city noises around them. Louis looks at him, finding the sight of features he's grown to love bathed in the beautiful and colorful lights of Times Square. "It's so busy and crowded that we get to do this without being bothered."

Harry squeezes their laced fingers together as they walked side by side on the busy boulevard. Louis smiles at the gesture, squeezing back and dropping his head in fondness. He hears Harry chuckling. "Or, maybe it's because it's night time and you're wearing this bloody coat that goes up to your ears."

The singer shrugs, glancing at his boyfriend. "No one's recognizing us yet, at least." Harry says, bending down and speaking low as if he's telling Louis a secret. 

The smaller man glances around, losing his gaze among the hundreds of unknown faces and buildings. He quite enjoys the ordinary parts of their relationship, the normality that doesn't come to them often. They manage to grasp that feeling by taking a walk on the busiest area of the busiest city, hand in hand with no destination in mind. 

It's endearing to see Harry looking around as if he's never been there before, pointing at places that held some sort of history to him and sharing tales that Louis is positive he will keep in his memory for as long as he can. 

"I missed this." Harry states at a certain point. Their eyes meet as they're waiting for a green light at the edge of a sidewalk. "You look wonderful, you know that?" Harry mutters, tone wavy and holding adoration.

"Shut up," Louis shakes his head and feels glad that the huge screens above them are disguising the blush that rises to his cheeks. The singer touches his jaw just as the pedestrian's lights flash green. Louis shivers, either from Harry's cold fingertips or the gesture itself. "Haz, the light's green," He informs, but the singer doesn't waver in his movements.

"Don't care." He pouts and laces his hands on his lover's face, cradling his features like it's made of gold. Louis drowns in Harry's eyes gazing down at him. "Wanna kiss you," He whispers just before their lips touch, warm and soft amid the gelid breeze.

It's ironic, how slow the time seem to pass in the seconds they spend there, lost within each other, all while being surrounded by nothing but hurry. When they break apart, the lights are flashing, and the couple runs to cross the busy avenue, a smile displayed on their faces like a prize. 

Luckily, no one recognizes them, or, if someone did, they didn't want to bother the moment and their kiss underneath the city lights.

The next morning, Louis wakes up alone.

He stretches his arms around the large mattress, in search of Harry's heated skin, longs limbs splattered on the sheets beside him, but he doesn't find it. Fluttering his eyes open, he confirms that Harry's side of the bed is empty, but still warm. 

His feet drag across the floor, pacing through the loft, wincing at the bright sunlight that invades the area from the rounded windows. He finds Harry in the kitchen, with his back turned to him, mixing something in a bowl quietly. As he approaches, Louis admires Harry's shirtless body, golden and tanned underneath the natural light, tattoos decorating his torso.

Harry barely jumps when he feels Louis' arms wrapping around him from behind, embracing tightly. "Morning, Lou," He mutters with a raspy voice. Louis is certain that he could write an entire song about the way that Harry melts into his embrace, letting out content breaths and going pliant under the display of affection.

"Hey love," Louis hums, his cheek pressed against the other man's shoulder blade. He senses a familiar scent, one that is connected to Harry immediately. It's baking powder and dry yeast. "What's that?" He asks, despite already knowing the answer. Anything to hear Harry's voice in the morning.

"I woke up a bit earlier than usual and couldn't fall back asleep. Figured I'd make some fresh bread for breakfast." He responds, hands fumbling with a whisk as a thick dough forms inside the bowl. 

Louis plants a peck on the bones of his spine and moves beside him on the counter to make coffee - and tea, for himself - while he listens to Harry softly humming some song. The kitchen fills with delightful smells, roasted coffee, tea and warm milk. All that along with Harry's dimpled smiles and laughing, is everything that Louis could ever need.

After the bread enters the pre-heated oven, Louis serves Harry his coffee the way he likes, and pours himself some tea as they sit on the living room couch, turning on the TV just to let the space be filled by background noise while they talk mindlessly and recover from sleep.

Louis finds himself grabbing his second cup of tea, when he comes back and glances over at his boyfriend, who is deeply concentrated on his phone, texting something.

"What are you doing over there, Styles?" He questions with a grin, placing his cup on the center table. News are playing on the large screen but he doesn't pay a single look towards it.

"Just talking to my sister," Harry replies with a dimpled grin of his own, green eyes flickering to his lover. "Is it okay if she comes over tomorrow? Haven't seen her in a while."

Louis nods, licking his lips, tasting sweet milk. "It's your place, Haz. Besides, I'd love to meet her." Harry smiles, texts something and drops his phone somewhere in the couch, shooting Louis a glance that the smaller man recognizes instantly. He leans back on the couch and presses his thighs together, tapping the top of it. "C'mere." 

Harry grins contently, letting his head fall on Louis' lap. Both men sigh happily as Louis' fingers find their way to Harry's curls, tangling themselves there and scratching slightly. The singer looks peaceful, eyes closed and body curled up on the couch, despite it being large enough to fit his tall body.

"You're an amazing boyfriend, Lou." Harry breathes, voice so sweet that Louis' tea tastes dull and bitter compared to it.

He chuckles lightly, and if Harry wasn't so drunk off sleep, he's certain that the singer would make a comment about him giggling. "I try." He says, bending down to press a kiss to the man's hair. His back aches and the angle is awkward, but he wouldn't change a thing as Harry turns his head to face up to look at Louis. 

"How long have we been together?" He asks, eyes darting across the ceiling. 

Louis pouts and ponders. "Five months? Don't know for sure, I'm bad with dates."

Harry smiles, dimples on full display under the sunlight that bleeds into the living room. Louis thinks that he looks like an angel. "Best five months of my life, then." He whispers, and despite the noise from the TV, Louis is positive that Harry's voice is the only thing that he hears.

The couple spends a bit more time there, discussing weird subjects that Harry brings up suddenly - is a trait that pops up as soon as his coffee kicks in the mornings - and Louis' laughter is a song that plays constantly inside the apartment. 

When the smell of fresh baked bread reaches the living room, Louis runs his thumb on Harry's cheek, looking down. "I think your bread is done."

Harry perks up, excited, and he kisses Louis' lips before standing up. 

Louis thinks he could definitely write a song about that, too.

As it turns out, Gemma is the polar opposite of Harry in the best way possible. 

Where Harry is peaceful, calm and quiet, Gemma is loud and visibly excited, and it shows in the way that she unhesitatingly pulls Louis into a hug as soon as she lays eyes on him. 

"Hi!" She says, pressing the smaller man tighter against her. She's not as tall as Harry, but she's taller than most women, and Louis doesn't mind the way she tucks her face down on his shoulder. It's endearing, and it takes away all the traces of nervousness that he was feeling before the encounter. "Oh, our mom has said so much about you! She likes you a lot, y'know?"

Louis shoots her a smile when she pulls away, and he finds that she has dimples much like Harry does. "Gems, calm down, don't scare my boyfriend away, yeah?"

"Wouldn't be able to even if you tried." Louis spoke through a smile. Gemma slings an arm around him, walking further inside the loft. 

In the kitchen, Harry is fixing lunch as the three of them hold easy conversations. Gemma asks a lot of questions about Louis, where he came from and how he has been dealing with Harry's life so far. It's lovely to interact with her, and he finds comfort in her loud mannerisms, seeing a lot of himself in her.

"Did you know that when Harry was a toddler, he ate my mom's lipstick? Like, the entire thing-"

"Gems, c'mon," Harry spoke, shaking his head with a smile as he maneuvers the stove. Louis laughs loudly behind the kitchen isle, along with Gemma who is cackling by the seat next to his. "You're embarrassing me." The singer says, gesturing with a wooden spoon.

The pair continues to laugh, until Louis manages to speak; "I knew he was the type to eat weird stuff, I told him the other day that he probably was the type of kid to eat crayons or something."

The sister lets out a laugh. "He definitely was!"

"Is this how it's gonna be? Both of you ganging up on me?" Harry speaks through an amused grin. Louis looks his way and winks, making the taller man blush. 

"If you don't like it, maybe you shouldn't have such a cool boyfriend, little brother." She says between chuckles, flickering her long, brunette hair over her shoulder.

Lunchtime goes by smoothly, Louis feels content to be surrounded by the Styles' chaotic energies, watching them balance each other out, telling stories and sharing family tales that are either hilarious or unbelievably sweet. He's certain then that nothing about Harry is negative, and that all he's ever needed was right there in front of him.

Gemma leaves a bit before dinner, off to her own tasks at her own place, on the other side of the metropolis. Louis wonders if the siblings bought their respective places at the same time in the big city, wanting to be close to each other whenever Harry was in New York.

They clean up after she leaves with an affectionate and still loud farewell, and fall asleep not long after having dinner.

Somewhere around midnight, Louis feels the bed moving. He stills, arms lingering around his boyfriend, eyes closed as he tries to fall back asleep. He's been aware of Harry's uneasy sleeping pattern since the last couple of days. He can read his lover like no other; something is bothering him, but he didn't push the singer into talking until he feels Harry slipping away from his cuddle that night.

Harry sits on the edge of the bed, not making a sound, but Louis is already awake. He blinks his eyes open, finding the singer's curved back. He can hear Harry's frustrated breathing, erratic and agitated, echoing softly inside the silence of the bedroom. 

The dimmed light from the bathroom peaks into the room through a slit on the door. Louis sits up too, his tiredness gone at the sight of his boyfriend's distress. "Haz?" He says quietly, as if afraid to scare him.

The taller man looks over his shoulder slightly. He looks exhausted from the way his eyes are dropping. "Hi." He mutters, and it makes Louis' heart drop. He sounds apprehensive. "M'sorry to wake you up-"

"No, hey," Louis approaches, embracing the man from behind. He feels Harry's chest expand, taking in a deep breath, before letting go under his boyfriend's arms. "I know you're nervous about today. But you have to rest, yeah?" He whispers.

Harry simply nods, looking at the floor. 

Louis pulls him in tighter, wanting to absorb all the uneasiness that settled in his lover's figure. The singer hasn't been sleeping well since he was informed of the stunt he was set in, being it the reason he went to New York in the first place. He had a interview, which was common for him; however, it was live television, being broadcasted on one of the biggest and most watched channels of the US.

Louis knew he couldn't understand the pressure of it, the amount of worry and anxiety that this part of his life brought to him. But he could see it, hidden in the lines of Harry's smile and in the erratic, restless nights. 

"Want to talk about it? See if it will go away if you do?" He offers, afraid to break the silence around them. Harry shakes his head softly, kissing the inside of Louis' arms that snake around his tense shoulders. "Alright, lay back down then, here," Louis pulls him down, dropping them both on the pillows and pulling the covers up until it reached Harry's cheek. 

Harry curls up on his side, head full of curls resting on his bare chest, hands glued to his sides. Louis tangles their legs together and flies a hand to scratch Harry's scalp tenderly, wanting to pull back all the layers of anxiety and fear from that moment to find his bubbly and peaceful Harry again. 

"You're going to be amazing, as always." Louis reassures, pressing an endlessly string of kisses on his boyfriend's forehead. "Your fans love you. Everyone will love to see you there. You'll do great, I'm sure of it."

He falls asleep caressing his curls, in hopes that through his touch, Harry can read how much he loves him too.

Spotlights hanging from the ceiling illuminated Harry's features, tense but beautiful nevertheless. Louis doesn't tear his gaze away, from where he's standing behind the camera crew, he hopes that Harry can find some sort of relief when their eyes meet. He does, visibly relaxing in the chair he's sitting, across from the woman that is about to interview him.

The lights flicker and the working crew between them start to announce the minutes before they're live. Microphone and more lights gather around Harry, a small one is placed in the collar of his beige blouse, stamped flowers disguising Harry's trembling fingers that come up to scratch his own neck a few times.

Louis thinks he looks wonderful, and can't help the grin that splatters over his face. Harry looks at him moments before they're officially live, and smiles, before turning his attention fully to the interviewer and the interview itself.

It goes by mostly smoothly. Louis' heart is beating fast and loud as he watches; the woman asks a few questions towards the end that he can see it making Harry slightly uncomfortable, but he smiles and answers kindly anyways, spreading nothing but good energy around the dense atmosphere of live TV. 

When it finishes, Harry makes a bee line towards the crew, thanking everyone before heading to his awaiting boyfriend. He pecks Louis' lips, and when the smaller man intertwines their hands together, he notices he's still trembling. "You did great, love." Louis says, grinning up at his lover.

Harry nods, eyes darting across the room, still uneasy although the tension is gone. "Almost had a heart attack a few times, but yeah." He mutters.

Louis squeezes their hands together, trying to ground the man. It works, and Harry kisses him a bit more for that.

Next, Harry loses all his nervousness and anxiety when he performs his single, Lights Up, released months ago. Louis has VIP access to the small lounge, getting a great view of his boyfriend's show. It's amazing, how the singer can turn into a ball of sunshine and talent, drawing out screams and cheers with just one song. Louis sings quietly, his own voice long gone between the noises of the medium crowd that forms in front of the stage. 

He's so lost in endearment that he barely hears the end of the song, and heads backstage as soon as Harry disappears after throwing kisses and waving at his fans. He meets Harry and greets the band, ignoring the few "aw's" that echos inside the room when Harry pulls him into yet, another kiss. 

"Thank you, Lou." Harry whispers, embracing the smaller man. 

Louis isn't sure what he's being thankful for, but Harry tells him later that afternoon as they're driving back to his loft; _thank you for always being next to me, not matter what._


	24. Chapter 24

The morning rises windy and cold a few days later, coating the atmosphere of New York city in a cloudy mist. Louis is up already, making coffee for Harry, who is still deep asleep, resting from the draining activities of the past couple of days.

To match the city's busy rush, Harry's schedule has been full with performances, interviews and even a photo-shoot that Louis felt lucky to be witnessing behind the scenes. The smaller man did his best to be helpful and supportive, no matter how hectic their routines became. At the end of the day, it was just the two of them, and that was recharging enough for both.

The coffee machine beeps, and Louis waits for the last few drops to fall onto the filled mug. He leans over the counter, breathing in the scent of the fresh grinded beans. It's a scent that means _Harry,_ and that's enough for him to appreciate it.

His phone begins to buzz on the pocket of his sweatpants. He frowns, glancing over the screen and wondering about the unexpected call from his best friend.

"Niall?" He says, voice still hoarse from sleep. What's up, mate?"

 _"Louis, have you checked social media recently?"_ Niall requests immediately, his tone totally opposite to Louis'. He sounds rushed, almost panicked.

Louis swallows a hollow lump on his throat. "Ahn, no, I never really-"

The Irish interrupts, his accent thicker from the evident emotion in his voice. _"Great. Don't."_

The coffee machine beeps again. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong or?" He questions, closing his hand on a fist, trying to contain his sudden nervousness.

 _"Shit lad, I hate to be the one to tell ya,"_ The man sighs. _"There are some rumors about you going around."_

Louis breathes again, finding the task harder to accomplish than before. "Niall, would please explain a bit more than that? I'm getting freaked out over here. What is it?"

 _"It's Eleanor."_ Niall answers, saying the name in a single inhale that sounds shallow as it echos on the other end of the line.

The name bounces off Louis' head like a distant memory, a faded reverie. It almost erases all the negativity that it carried months ago.

"What about her?" Louis asks further, ignoring the rapid beat of his heart. He feels his nails digging into his palm, but he doesn't make a move to loosen his grip on nothing. "She went to the shop again? What-"

 _"No, Louis-"_ Niall sighs deeply, and the seconds of silence drowns Louis in deafening anxiety. _"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called you to talk about this shit. It's just lies, anyways."_

Louis doesn't know how the call ended, who hung up first, or if either of them had even said goodbye.

The only thing he knows is that his fingers are shaking, his palms are sweating and he's sitting on the kitchen floor, against the counter, fearing that his knees might give up at any second.

He finds the bad news with ease, unfortunately. 

He opens his Twitter for the first time in weeks, and sees his name on the trending topics. His gaze dart over the many negative tweets about him, and it does nothing but deepen his confusion and make his heart drop. When he moves onto googling it, the news are splattered on the front pages, headlines making his chest burn with a familiar sensation that he absolutely despises.

His eyes water, afloat in a salty sea, when he reads the stamped words;

_Rumors about Harry Styles' boyfriend surface._

_Ex-girlfriend of Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles' current partner, exposes their past abusive relationship._

_Louis Tomlinson is on the hot seat! Is he a cheater?_

The man dares to open one of the links, not one of the most reliable sources, but he does it anyway. He's blinded by each minute that consumes him alive.

She had posted a few pictures of them, old photographs from when they were together, along with a long text about how Louis was, allegedly, a terrible, toxic, abusive and cheating boyfriend. He reads two lines of said text and realizes he can't do it. He can't keep on reading those lies, published and clouding over his own name.

He swallows hard, wanting to make all that angst and retained anger to go down his stomach and simply disappear. It doesn't. His chest feels heavy, his hands can barely hold the weight of the phone as it drops on his lap, his palms traveling through his face instead.

The loft suddenly feels too small, and the kitchen that holds so many fond and domestic memories becomes a stage for a nightmare. The coffee machine beeps once again, and it makes him wince as the sound pulls him away from the dark pit in his mind.

He manages to stand up, barely, with faint elbows and unsteady breathing. He turns off the machine, finally, and when he turns, he knocks over his empty teacup that shatters as it hits the floor. The noise clicks something in his mind; it's so alike the way he is feeling, fragile and broken, divided in pieces across the room, and ruined. 

He leans on the counter, hands coming up to his hair, arms raised in a desperate attempt to open his airways. He feels like the world is crashing down on him, all the weight of a planet on his shoulders, watching his struggle with judgmental eyes.

The sun that bleeds in the space feels too bright and invasive. The cloudy mist makes him shiver. Everything around him feels so negative and heavy, until;

"Louis?" Harry's voice echo, breaking the silence and the ruined atmosphere; a lighthouse in the middle of an angry sea. "Baby, what's wrong?" He asks, approaching unhesitatingly.

Even then, Louis feels like Harry is moving too fast, coming too close. When long arms attempt to hold him, he backs away, so overwhelmed that he feels like his skin might tear apart at any giving touch. "I'm sorry, I-" He tries to say, but his voice breaks and his heart aches at the way that a twinge of sadness pass through Harry's tired eyes. 

Louis feels bad, but then Harry grins, full of coated concern and comprehension. "It's okay Lou, just tell me if you're alright?"

Blue eyes travel around the kitchen and glues on the scattered pieces of what once was a porcelain teacup. His hands grasp his own elbows, searching for an physical manifestation of stability. "No, Harry. I'm not." He responds with honesty, not finding a trace of strength within himself to try and hide the truth from Harry and his careful green orbs.

Harry nods, a few feet away from his still, respecting his space, and for that, Louis is grateful. He looks up at the singer, who doesn't look like he's mad, as Louis was expecting. Harry appears to be deeply worried, eyebrows furrowed and a frown concealed by soft eyes. "Do you want me to leave?" He asks, gesturing to the bedroom.

"No, no-" Louis protests immediately, realizing that the thought of being completely alone would drop him deeper into an endless spiral of self-loathing. Also, he can't allow himself to push Harry away. "Shit, feel like I can't fucking breathe-" He confesses in a voice that feels like a whisper and a shout at the same time. He brings his palm up to his own heaving chest.

"Louis, look at me," From where he's standing, Harry waves his hands, calling for Louis' attention, which he gets almost instantly. "Whatever it is, it's fine. We'll be alright, remember?" 

All that Louis does is look at him, fixate his gaze on the man. Harry doesn't have to tell him to breathe in and out, to relax and to take it slow, because through his features, the singer guides him until he feels like he can inhale fully again. Louis hates crying, and he averts his look only when he feels tears prickling his eyes. He sighs, doing his best to hold himself together. He knows he doesn't have to, that he can breakdown and Harry will be there nonetheless, but he wants to remain above his fears and his insecurities. 

The atmosphere stills, and Louis regains his senses, although his mind wavers into a place of peace and comfort when Harry's soft voice breaks the silence; "Can I hug you?"

The smaller man nods, glancing down at his boyfriend's bare feet. He probably woke up scared from all the noise and rushed out of bed to check on him. The kitchen regains its cozy and warm ambience, matching the heat of Harry's skin as Louis falls securely inside his embrace. 

The couple remain like that for minutes, locked inside each other's arms without a plan to break it apart so soon, as the coffee mug rests cold and forgotten on the counter.

Ignoring Louis' protests, Harry cancels all his meetings for the day in efforts to give his boyfriend whatever he needs during the very unfortunate day. 

The singer didn't mention it, but he's livid. The way that Louis bright eyes and sunshine smile looks faded and stolen only makes his heart clench, concealing his anger towards the situation. He couldn't grasp how someone would want to cause any harm to the smaller man, to run over his name just as a way to get attention. 

"I didn't do it, Harry." Louis murmured, face tucked under Harry's chin. "I didn't-" He interrupted himself in frustration, pressing his body impossibly closer. 

Harry embraces him tighter, pulling the blankets up to Louis' cheek. "I believe you, Lou. I do. I know you didn't do any of those horrible things." He reassures him, voice thick in concern and comprehension. Harry glances down, catching a glimpse of Louis' furrowed eyebrows and closed eyelids, long eyelashes decorating his high cheekbones. Underneath the low light in the bedroom, blinds closed, Harry still manages to find unconditional beauty in Louis.

The smaller man feeds off the silence, breathing deep and slow, inhaling Harry's cologne and the smell of his citric shampoo that lingers the air and the pillowcase. He feels safe underneath all those senses, although his heart beats fast every time he remembers it.

He recalls the words posted across the internet, plastered around social media like a virus. He wants to rip every fiber of his own skin before he admits to any of the lies that Eleanor had posted, that he cheated on her countless times, that he was physically and emotionally abusive towards her. 

He doesn't understand, he doesn't grasp why she would do it. It feels so far fetched from who she was, a sweet, kind girl that made him smile, despite not loving her the way he does with Harry. He had some affection for her, and as much as it hurts his ego to have himself be portraited so wrongly, he's suspicious that it hurts even more to see someone he once cared about doing despicable actions such as lie publicly about something so serious.

He slits his eyes open, finding shadows in the corners of the bedroom, no light or hope to be seen. His fingers twitch above Harry's bicep, grasping almost unconsciously. "Maybe I deserve it." He states, voice barely a whisper, but it bounces off their chests like a scream.

"What?" Harry gasps, incredulous. "What do you mean you deserve it?"

Louis feels Harry wanting to sit up, but he pushes him down again, and the singer doesn't fight it. He needs to be right where he is, cuddled up against his boyfriend, so he can feel like he's breathing properly. "I was nothing she said I was. But I did lie to her, _and_ to myself. I tried to love her but I couldn't-" Louis reveals, his cheek pressed on Harry's sternum.

"I know it's complicated, Lou," Harry whispers, tone so sweet that it curls around the air, dancing in the darkness. "But it doesn't make it okay for her to lie, to defame you like you're some sort of criminal." He speaks, trying his best to contain his annoyance to be apparent in his tone. 

Louis recognizes the to negative emotions lacing his words, but doesn't point it. He would be just as mad, if not more, if something like this happens to Harry. "Maybe you're right." Louis sighs. Despite his faltering confidence and self-worth, Harry's words are genuine and truthful. He doesn't deserve it. Hearts break all the time, and that shouldn't mean dragging your ex's name through the mud for some sort of vengeance relief. 

He hears Harry sighing quietly as his lips part hesitantly. "I didn't want to bother you with this before, but we need to talk about legal measures, Lou. She can't just make serious accusations like this and get away with it."

"Harry-"

"Hear me out, baby." The singer insists. "All I have to do is call my legal team, they will take care of the process."

Louis tucks his face further into Harry's chest, wanting to disappear, to dissipate into the thick air around them and to forget that any of this confusion ever happened. "I don't want any confusion, fuck, why do I feel bad about suing her?" He mutters.

"Because you're a good person, Louis." Harry says, and Louis can hear his smile through his voice. He almost looks up to watch his dimples come to life again, but it's too dark to see, in every possible meaning. "But this isn't just a rumor or a joke. This is serious."

Louis ponders. "Will she get arrested?" He asks, almost regretful of the way he childishly questions.

"Very unlikely, but she will have to deal with a lawsuit." Harry responds, assertive. 

He sighs, wrapping his arms around his lover's torso. He feels like he's grasping at an anchor, that grounds him and remains stable, despite the angry and stormy sea around them. Waves crash and ships sink to the sand-filled bottom, and yet, Harry prevails, strong and assured, beautiful and untouched by the ugliness of it all. "Why is this happening?" He grunts, feeling his skin mold within Harry's fingers, wrapped around his shoulders.

"I don't know, baby." The singer says and plants a kiss to the top of his head, breathing onto his hair. Maybe Louis is the rope that brings him back afloat, pushes him up and towards the sun again. "Try to rest, yeah? I'll be right here."

Louis swears he hears a peaceful ocean living in Harry's ribcage, flooding his heartbeats as it thunders softly against his ear. It's all he needs to stay afloat.

When his phone buzzes again, he's already breathing like he's panicked. It's an incoming call, vibrating on the nightstand incessantly. Before all the noise can wake Harry up, Louis slides off the bed and once he leaves the dark bedroom, he closes the door softly behind him.

His heart falters when he sees the contact flashing on his screen. Swallowing hard, he picks up the call, fingers grasping his phone as it trembles. "Hello?" 

_"Louis?"_ The familiar voice echos almost instantly, adding to his anxiety. His mother's tone is much like Niall's, desperate and rushed, and he's certain that her heart is beating as fast as his own, all the way across the ocean.

"Mom? Hi, ahn," He says, finding nothing but stumbling words coming up his throat. He paces to the living room, where the end of the afternoon bathes the space in orange tones.

 _"Louis, there's stuff about you on the media."_ She points immediately, to his dismay. _"Is Eleanor lying?"_

He drops down on the large couch and inhales a sharp breath, both in disbelief and in annoyance that he's too tired and emotionally drained to conceal. "Of course she is, mom. Do you really think I'd do such things?"

 _"I don't know!"_ Johannah exclaims. Louis brings a hand to his face, frustrated. _"I feel like I don't know you anymore, ever since you've left-"_

"Yeah? And who's fault is that?" He interrupts, tapping his feet on the carpet. "If you and dad had accepted my decision to leave, we would be on good terms right now, wouldn't we?"

_"Louis-"_

"Dad doesn't even talk to me anymore! Even if I had stayed there in Donny, he would never accept me for who I am." He carries on, feeling the weight of years in torn apart relationships with his family come crashing down his lungs. "Am I wrong, mom?" He echoes, hearing her sigh echoing back.

 _"This is a mess, Louis."_ She states. _"I called cause' I figured you'd be feeling terrible about those rumors."_

"Well, I am." Louis confirms, almost allowing himself to cry, but he doesn't. The sun sets on the horizon, and he stands up to look at it from the loft's round window, visually comforting himself. "We are suing her for the false accusations, but yeah, I still feel like shit."

 _"Louis-"_ There's a silence, a pondering moment, and then the words come like a warm motherly hug to Louis' mind. _"I accept you."_

His jaw slacks. It's small words that bring a slight spark to his horrendous day. "Mom-" 

_"I've always accepted you. I was scared when you left, that's why I was so angry at you. My only son, all alone in the big city."_ She confesses, and Louis realizes then how much he misses her. 

He misses her too-long hugs and her bright smile, the way she speaks a bit too loudly, much like himself. He misses the sight of her wobbling around his childhood home as she hums some tune that Louis vaguely remembers. He desperately misses the way she used to read him, care for him, and help with anything he's ever asked for, up until he decided to leave his hometown. 

_"I'm sorry, darling."_ She adds when Louis is overwhelmed by his own silence, by his own thoughts.

He smiles, looking down. "We got a lot to talk, don't we?" 

_"Indeed, love."_ He feels relieved when he can hear her smiling too. _"But now it's not the best time."_

"Yeah, yeah," He agrees. "Let's wait for this mess to clear out, and we'll talk. Properly."

 _"Right."_ She confirms, almost excited. _"Please, be okay. For the sake of your mom, alright?"_

"Alright."

_"And your boyfriend better take good care of you."_

A smile cracks on his face, and his eyes fill with tears although he doesn't allow it. It's good tears, at least, and he doesn't mind the way they sting his eyes just a bit. "He is, mom." 

The call ends just as the sun disappears completely into the horizon. Louis breathes, relieved that the day is finally done, and that the darkness can come and blanket his worries, as well as wash away any remains of negativity that the day had carried. 

He paces back into the bedroom, and finds Harry sitting up on the bed, scratching his eyes. He hates that he messed up Harry's schedule, that his own problems caught up to the busy singer and made him push everything back. Just as he hates it, he loves that Harry cares enough to put him first, despite his own responsibilities. God knows that Louis would do just the same for him.

"That was my mom." Louis says quietly when Harry gives him a inquisitive look. "Started quite heated, but we're good, I guess."

"C'mere." Harry speaks, monotone despite his grin, as he gestures for Louis to come forward after turning on the lamp at the bedside. Louis does as he's told, approaching when the light bathes Harry's features in gold and amber tones. He grins too, locking eyes with his boyfriend, and doesn't hesitate to straddle Harry's lap, snaking his arms around his neck.

Harry instantly embraces his waist, pulling him close until there's no space between them any longer. It still doesn't feel like they're close enough. 

"I'm glad you and your mom are good." Harry points, leaning back to look up at Louis. His hand come up to tuck a piece of wavy chestnut hair behind his ear. 

"Me too." The smaller man bites his lip, thighs pressing on the sides of Harry's hips. He doesn't want to let go, and by the way that Harry's nails dig into the fabric of his shorts, neither does he. "How was that nap?" Louis asks, words curling on inches of space between their lips.

"Terrible, you pull at the blankets all the time." He grunts, pressing a shy kiss on the corner of Louis' mouth.

"Shut up," The smaller man leans back, faking annoyance as he rolls his eyes. They chuckle in unison, but Harry doesn't let him lean back further as he pulls at his waist and lets his fingers trace underneath his shirt, drawing patterns between his shoulder blades. 

"I was thinking," The singer mutters, catching all of Louis attention. "What if we take a few weeks off? Like, a proper vacation."

Louis ponders at Harry's suggestion for a moment, watching the emerald color of his eyes dance with the amber light from the lamp. "Haz, you can't push everything back because of drama. Your team, the band, the studio-"

Harry shuts him with a kiss, for what felt like the thousandth time just that month. Louis doesn't mind it, despite pulling back, eager to hear his argument. "They all need a good break. So do we." Harry points. "We worked so hard these past few weeks,"

"I don't know, Haz," He wonders, hands dropping to his lap. He fidgets with his own fingernails before Harry takes it into his own palms, thumbs massaging his knuckles as if his skin was made of silk.

"Hey," He calls. Blue eyes waver until they meet Harry's. "Don't think too much about it. Let me do this for you, yeah?"

Louis is positive then, that there's nothing that he won't do when Harry's involved. He's completely whipped, wrapped around the singer's fingers like the rings that he wears. He realizes there's no hesitance, no fear in the way he recognizes that he trusts and loves Harry utterly. "Where are we going?" He questions and Harry's eyes instantly light up, brighter than the lamp and the sun itself.

He kisses Louis, as if thanking him, and laces his hands around his jaw like he's holding a prize. He truly believe he is. "I promised to take you to Italy, didn't I?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to make it very clear that I have absolutely nothing against Eleanor, nor do I mean to disrespect her in any way. It's not my intention to demonize her or to throw any hate towards her. This is just a character in a fictional narrative.


	25. Chapter 25

Harry once said that Italy was a romantic place, and that it reminded him of Louis.

However, for Louis himself, from the moment he leaves the plane, every corner he looks at holds something that screams _Harry._

Maybe it's the small, narrow and stone-made streets, the high constructions that stand so elegantly, colored like the sunset itself. Maybe it's the clear atmosphere, the romanticism of the architecture that circles the city of Rome, or the easy-flowing language that Louis isn't tired to hear as it rolls off the native's tongues.

Italy feels like a stage for the finest arts, emphasized by the idea of eternal love and beauty, all made to exist and nothing else.

It definitely reminds him of Harry, in every possible way.

"Lou?" Harry calls, head full of curls turned to look at where he stands, behind his frame with all their luggage. "Do you have the reservation papers?"

"Oh, yeah, here," Louis reaches for the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out the receipts of their hotel room reservation, earning a grin from his boyfriend as he hands it and watches him speak to front desk worker in order to get their key.

Planning their trip all by themselves was a kind of stress that Louis missed, somehow. It feels good to be in control of his own routine, of where he's going or staying, with no private drivers, no managers following them around and filling their schedules. 

It's just the two of them, in the heart of Italy, surrounded by loving sights that Louis will commit to memory as long as he's alive.

Harry manages to get their room key, turning with an contented smile that distracts Louis for a second, before the taller man pats his shoulder and leads the way into an elevator, then through a long corridor filled with stained-glass windows. Louis allows his eyes to wonder around the beautiful space, trailing behind Harry almost timidly, as if the singer belongs there completely and he himself doesn't. 

Their room is the definition of cozy and elegant, making justice to the adjectives entirely. Warm tones bathe the walls and the wood furniture, light bleeding in through arched windows in the wall that opens to a balcony. The bed is enormous, soft and simple covers blanketing the mattress, underneath a generous amount of pillows. There's a few plants wavering at the edge of the balcony railing, long-leafed and tropical. Harry makes a beeline just to touch the edge of the leafs as if its part of the art in the air. 

Louis smiles, letting their luggage hit the floor and closing the door behind him. The room smells of honey and sweet incense as he paces across it, reaching the balcony just to wrap his arms around Harry. 

"I love it here. It's so nice." Louis mutters, pressing his lips and nose on Harry's clothed shoulder, breathing in the mix of his cologne and his shampoo. His hair is growing, almost reaching up to his shoulders now, and he absolutely loves it. Harry seems to enjoy it too as he often subconsciously plays with his own curls whenever he's distracted. 

Harry leans his head back, resting against Louis' touch. "Me too. I told you it was romantic, didn't I?" 

Louis hugs hims tighter. "Innit, love. So romantic that I really wanna kiss you right now,"

"You don't even have to say it," Harry whispers as he turns and bends down to reach Louis' lips, catching them instantly between his own. His hands finds their way up to lace around his lover's jaw. 

Louis believes that they both belong right there, cradled in the arms of Italy, stage of arts and a love that only grows more intense as the kiss deepens, leaving the city's skyline and view as the only witness.

They don't do much for the rest of the day, only taking naps to recover from the jet lag and eating the delicious food that comes with the room service. Harry turns the TV on just as a background noise, letting Italian words and newscast fill the space as they hold conversations and cuddle between soft blankets.

The next morning, Louis wakes up to the sound of ruffling sheets as Harry sits up on the edge of the bed and picks the phone on the nightstand, proceeding to order breakfast quietly, almost whispering. Louis slits his eyes open and meets the sight of Harry's naked back, and he wants to kiss his way up his spine but he's too sleepy to move still.

He doesn't miss the small _"Grazie!"_ that Harry says at the end of the call, before he puts the phone down and turns to see that Louis is awake already. 

"Didn't know you had some Italian under your sleeves." Louis says, almost cringing at how raspy and hoarse his own voice sounds. Harry doesn't seem to mind it, in fact, his dimples make an appearance immediately and moves closer towards his boyfriend, straddling his lap, soft sheets between their bodies. 

It knocks a breath out of Louis, the sudden weight on top of his hips, but he smiles either way, his hands making their automatic way to the top of Harry's soft thighs. The taller man leans down, curls falling to frame his face beautiful, the sun that peaks behind him turning the edges of his hair amber and gold. _"Buongiorno."_ Harry whispers, moving to softly nibble on Louis' jaw.

The smaller man underneath shudders quietly, sighing. It's early and he's already feeling this way; completely in love, drowning in adoration and endearment for the singer that straddles his hips. He's certain that Italy is the most romantic place on Earth then. "I have no idea what you've just said, but that was hot."

Harry chuckles against his neck as Louis' palms draw patterns across his back. "I said good morning," 

"Good morning to you too, love," Louis kissed the inside of his lover's arms as they're pinned on the either side of his head, making his way up until he reaches Harry's collarbones. "What are the plans for today?"

Harry's eyes light up, brighter than the sun that paints him golden. "Oh, there's so many beautiful places I want to show you. There's the _Trevi Fountain_ , the _Spanish Steps_ is awesome too, and they're all close by the metro so we can take those today-" He interrupts himself when he glances away from the empty part of the bed and meets Louis' fond grin. "What?"

Louis shakes his head, but doesn't look away. He believes that he couldn't tear his gaze apart from Harry's figure then, even if he wanted to. "Nothing. Just thinking about how happy I am to be here with you."

Harry's smile open easily, slowly, dimples tearing his soft skin in the best way possible. He bends down with his bottom lip between his teeth, and steals a kiss that was hiding away on the corners of Louis' mouth. "I'm happy too, Lou," He expresses, eyes so bright that Louis thinks he could cry just by glancing at it a bit longer. 

Then, Harry shifts his waist a bit, non intentional at first, accidentally creating a friction on Louis' crotch that tears a hiss out of him. The singer smirks knowingly, and circles his hips again, pressing his thighs together to concentrate his movements on his boyfriend's navel. "Don't do that to me." Louis croaks, hiding all his moans and hisses behind his teeth. It's a hard task when Harry is above him in all his glory with bedroom eyes that beg him for something he absolutely wants to give.

"Getting happier, huh?" Harry bites his lip again, making it pink and shiny, and moves once again. This time he plants his hands on Louis' bicep, keeping his boyfriend's grip on his thighs.

"Always happier with you." Louis whispers, not being able to contain a moan as it exits his throat quietly. Harry is poison and paradise all together, devilish and loving in the way he moves and teases. 

He feels his semi-erection swelling beneath his boyfriend, and then, there's a knock on the door, followed by a voice with a heavy accent announcing; "Room service!"

Louis groans, throwing his head further into the pillow as Harry giggles and moves away from his lap and towards the door. "Great timing," He complains quietly, adjusting his erection in his boxers as Harry pushes a t-shirt to his body and opens the door, after looking back at him to shoot him a dimpled smile. 

Louis finds it easy to forget about all the worries that surrounded his mind when he's being a tourist alongside Harry. The singer is hectic and pro-active, pulling Louis into beautiful places and sights, almost not allowing him to breathe, in the best way possible.

It leaves no room in Louis' mind for him to think about anything else. He's too distracted, drowning in the Italian attractions, the sights and the landscapes, structures and art pieces on the concrete and on the corners of Harry's smile.

Harry hasn't said a word about the legal measures taken against Eleanor, however, he does show him the texts he receives from his lawyers, and he leaves his phone on speaker whenever his legal team calls to inform the procedures that are being done throughout the process. Louis always reads and listens quietly, and they don't talk about it much further. It's relieving to be able to enjoy his time away from all the mess, and he's endlessly grateful for Harry's comprehension. 

It's the afternoon, after they've visited the said _Trevi Fountain_ , which turns out to be one of Louis' most favorite things he's ever seen with his own eyes, when the couple enters a small restaurant situated on a street corner. Louis is stunned by the century-old architecture and how it's so well maintained. His gaze follows through every picture and antique items exposed on the walls as a decoration while he follows Harry through the space, as the singer talks to an worker that guides them to a table close-by an window. 

The lunch is lovely, with Harry's companion, Louis finds it easy to deal with the heat of the sun, as they enjoy the food that it's served.

Next, they decide to skip the visit to another sight and go back to the hotel to cool down for the rest of the afternoon, considering they still had two entire weeks ahead and plenty of time to see the entirety of Rome's tourist attractions.

When the afternoon is coming to an end, lavender and rose tones are painting the sky as the couple sits in the balcony area of their room, appreciating the view. Harry has his guitar on top of his crossed legs as his fingers move skillfully and delicately on the strings, pulling and echoing a random flow of chords. 

The background melody adds to the beauty of the moment, inspiring Louis as he scribbles at his small notebook, before meant for writing songs and now it has turned into a journal of his own, his thoughts and feelings displayed all over the pages, lyrics eventually drafting between the personal writings. 

Louis sketches a small outline drawing of a guitar on the corner of one page, pursuing his lips, while Harry continues to play his instrument. His green eyes are lost within the skyline, bathing in all the colors that remind him of Louis' soft skin and edges. 

Then, he begins to hum. A random and cheerful rhythm, which he repeats quietly as he tries to find chords that'll fit his voice and his tone. Louis watches silently, and just as the sun disappears in the horizon, Harry looks up to meet his eyes. 

The smile that breaks Louis' features is instantaneous. "Hey there." He says softly, observing the dimples he's grown to love come to life completely. 

"Hey," Harry responds, shyly as if he's been caught during a personal moment. He strums a chord one last time, glances at the darkening sky and turns to his boyfriend, whose gaze is still glued to his figure, admiring wordlessly. He wants to take a picture of Harry just like that. "Fancy some dinner?" The singer asks, standing up.

The smaller man nods. "Yeah, do you want to order room service or do you wanna go out?" He requests, smiling through his words. 

Harry bends down once inside the room, placing his guitar back in its case. He places his hands on his hips, as if deciding what he wants to do, before turning around and walking back to the balcony, sitting beside Louis on the love seat there. "Wanna stay here tonight, do you mind?"

"Not at all." Louis answers, drawing his body closer. 

Harry's arms are automatic to open and fit around his lover's frame. Louis sighs contently inside the cuddle. The stars begin to prickle above them, their shine turning brighter just as the sky darkens. "This reminds me of that night on the empty bar." The singer mutters, voice lost in the warm breeze.

Louis grins, humming. "You mean the night you _rented_ the bar all for ourselves just so you could ask me to be your boyfriend?" Harry chuckles slightly, pressing Louis closer. How can that be forgotten? Louis thinks he will never be able to. It still brings butterflies to his stomach. "It feels like ages ago."

"It does." Harry agrees through a whisper. "We've been through a lot since then."

The smaller man only hums in agreement, and a comfortable silence falls between them. Louis feels lost in time, in a good way. His life has been completely turned around since he met Harry, definitely for the best, but he can't help but wonder how life take its turns so suddenly and beautifully. He was working at a coffee shop just months ago, living his nine-to-five routine, living around his tight budgets and tiring week days, with a dream that felt distant. 

"What are you thinking about?" The singer mutters, tearing him away from his thoughts and planting a peck on his temple. 

The smaller shrugs, fixating his gaze on the buildings around them. It looks painted in, dark silhouettes and bright lights on the windows, stars on the sky. "I'm thinking about who is going to get up and call to order dinner."

Harry laughs, and leans further into his seat. "Not me, definitely."

"Let go of me, then." Louis chuckles as he pulls his frame away from Harry, just to have the singer tug him back.

"Dinner can wait," Harry says with a laughing tone, toying with the smaller man's limbs until they're tangled on the love seat, wrestling just to ignore the fact that neither of them want to let go of each other. 

Louis wraps his legs around Harry's waist, stilling the singer against the cushions, pinning his forearms and locking his gaze with his own smile. "I win." He blurts out, lifting his chin proudly.

"You better start declaring defeat, Tomlinson." Harry says simply just as he stands up with ease, lifting Louis with him as the smaller man tightens his legs around his boyfriend. Louis yelps at the sudden gesture and flies his arms to Harry's shoulders as he walks into the room and falls onto the mattress, causing their bodies to collide on the bed.

Louis chuckles, his voice echoing inside the room. "Right, since you stood up, you'll be the one calling for dinner." He pokes Harry's chest, grinning as the singer turns to steady himself on top of Louis, pressing his back against the soft duvet.

"I personally believe that my dinner is already served." Harry whispers, lifting his gaze and letting it fall up and down Louis' body. His green eyes fall somewhere between adoration and hunger, and Louis should know this was coming the moment the singer pinned him to the bed. He's not complaining though. In fact, he's certain that he is more interested than Harry himself. 

His fingers find their way up towards Harry's hair, tugging at the roots of his long curls. He smiles when the singer sighs and parts his lips. "Are you comparing me to food, Styles?" He mutters back, tightening his legs around the man. 

"No. You're far more delicious than anything I can think of." He says, moving his head down to nibble softly at the skin of Louis' jaw. 

The smaller man immediately drops his head back, allowing the singer to kiss and lick along the exposed skin of neck. Harry explores without a rush, teasing until they're both circling their hips in search of something more. Louis doesn't bite his tongue when the first moan erupts from his throat, desperate and lustful. _"Harry-"_

"Holy fuck," Harry moans back, lifting his head from his boyfriend's neck and looking down at him with blown eyes. "I love it when you moan my name like that," He mumbles, voice a couple octaves lower than usual, the tone that creeps up Louis' spine in seconds and turns him into a desperate mess that he doesn't let out as often as he should.

Louis is proud of how much they've accomplished _sexually._ How they managed to communicate well enough until they are completely comfortable with one another. His sex-life was always awkward, filled with half-muttered words and quick releases that never felt too good. 

Now, after too much time has passed since his hormonal teenage years, he _finally_ manages to feel safe and comfortable enough to request; "I want you tonight. All of you." He whispers, taking Harry's face between his smaller hands to emphasize the importance of his words. 

Harry licks his lips, and Louis can feel the twitch that his cock does inside his pants at the idea of it, but his eyes still travel across Louis' features, as if searching for any sign of doubt. "Are you sure?" He asks, pursing his lips as he kisses the middle of Louis' chest piece.

"Yes." Louis confirms, pulling him down until they lips meet in an fervent kiss. 

It hits him, then. He's about to lose his virginity, and he's about to do it with _Harry_ , in Italy. _This couldn't be any better_ , he thinks.

Somehow, it gets better.

Harry is attentive and careful in the way he touches Louis from then on, and he can tell. His fingernails scrape the curves of Louis' waist and thighs lighter than he's used to, his lips are feathery as it they graze his skin, and his dirty talk is compressed into praises that has Louis already arching off the bed, subconsciously wanting to offer everything to Harry. He's in a state of mind that makes him utterly vulnerable, and he's so happy to be able to do so and to trust Harry completely.

And, Harry does take everything, with great care and appreciation. Louis yelps when he feels Harry's teeth sinking softly at the inside of his open thighs, and his lungs collapse at the bottom of his spine with a moan when he feels Harry's fingers begin to work him open, pressing and massaging carefully. Louis feels overwhelmed already.

He barely notices when Harry stands up to grab the lube bottle and a condom from his bag. When the taller man paces back to the bed where Louis lies waiting, his eyes are shining and there's an outline of his hard cock on the fabric of his pants. Louis licks his lips at the sight, and as soon as Harry settles between his legs, he moves his small hands down to tug on his belt.

He can see the way that Harry's mouth curves into a smirk and his hands move down to stop Louis, but the man underneath him is faster to point out; "I know, you want to make this about me, but let me make this for the both of us, please?" He mutters, hot breath against Harry's chin.

Louis' eyes are so pleading, soft and yet lustful enough to fit the definition of sin. They're so blue that Harry can't do much but to agree with a nod. 

He manages to work Louis open while his cock stands hard against Louis' member too, the friction so pleasurable, and still not enough. His fingers work in and out of his boyfriend, long digits pressing deep and careful. Louis squirts some amount of lube on his own hands and snakes his palm around both their cocks, the action making both moan at the same time, sighs harmonizing together like a melody. Louis thinks he can write a handful of songs about it.

He feels his thighs and knees getting sore from being this spread open, hips barely hanging at the edge of the bed to fit Harry's tall frame between them, but he doesn't mind. If anything, it adds to the intensity of everything going on around him. He doesn't mind a bit of pain and Harry knows it, and uses it to his advantage on a regular basis, but tonight, Harry does nothing but to _make love_ to his boyfriend.

"Harry, _please_ , I'm good-" Louis mumbles, breathing like his life is on its last line, in contrast on how slowly he's pulling at their joined erections.

Harry looks down at him, face decorated by fallen curls around his temples and jaw. He looks absolutely beautiful, mixed with the divinity of Gods above and the sin of every devil that paces the underground. "Don't want you to hurt, Lou-" He mutters, almost explaining, just as he pulls his fingers out of Louis. 

The smaller man whines at the emptiness inside him, but glances up at his lover with a sincere expression. "The last thing you can do is hurt me." He whispers, as if he's scared the entirety of Italy will hear his words if he speaks loud enough. The words soften Harry's features a bit, and Louis knows that Harry got the message; it surpasses the sexual context. "I trust you." He whispers again, and the definition of love falls in between the lines of Harry's iris. 

Louis takes the lead from there, kissing Harry while he opens the condom, struggling with his lube-slick grasp, but finally doing so and rolling the latex down Harry's erection. The taller man feels every bit of trust exhaling off Louis' skin as he sucks a love-bite on his neck.

Harry feels Louis pressing the tip of his cock against his entrance, and he snaps back into reality, lifting his torso to take one last look at the man. He doesn't need to ask for reassurance; Louis' small nod and teary eyes are enough to tell him, to _yell_ at him to go forward.

So he does.

Harry wraps one hand on the curve of Louis' thigh, and the other on his cock. He slicks himself up again, just for good measure, and thrusts forward _finally_ , slowly and so gentle that Louis barely sees the outline of his hips moving underneath the dimmed lights of the room.

It feels like he's being torn apart, for a moment. He feels the head of Harry's cock making an entrance, and although it's slow and careful, it still aches. He feels full, entirely filled, and it's been barely a whole inch. He concentrates, watching Harry's focused features above him. His fingers are grasping the sheets, dirty with lube and sweat but it grounds him enough.

He bites his lips, failing to contain a whimper. Harry looks up immediately and then there's concern wearing his features. "Want to stop?" He whispers, fearful that he might break Louis if he speaks any louder.

Louis' face is twisted in mixtures of pain and pleasure, but he shakes his head violently. "No, keep going,"

Harry doesn't tear his eyes away as he pushes in a bit further. Louis bites his lip and throws his head back. 

"Louis, you're hurting-"

"No." Louis interrupts, staring up with intent. "I want it. I need it, _Harry,_ please-"

When Louis is begging, he can't help but to comply. He nods, pushing further and bending down to kiss Louis' neck and face all over, distracting him from the momentary discomfort. Louis moans as Harry tugs at his cock, adding to his pleasure, and he manages to bottom out completely then, hips flush against Louis'.

He takes a second to realize how tight Louis feels. He's so delicate and warm and beautiful, that just by looking at him for a whole minute could bring him to the edge without a fail. Louis opens his eyes. _"So full,"_ He moans, and that's when he knows that the pain is gone, when the blue in his irises turn into a thin rim around the edges. "Move, love," He requests, already out of breath.

Harry complies, kissing him through his movements, pulling his hips back slowly and then forward. He groans low in throat when he can feel Louis' skin fill with shivers when he presses back in. "You feel so good, Lou, so tight, _oh my God-_ "

Then, Louis _smiles_. Wickedly and beautifully under him. He forgets where he is for a second, lost in the curves of his boyfriend's features. "Need you, Haz," He encourages. _"Fuck me."_ Louis whispers, smirking.

Harry is at a loss for words, so he acts instead. He thrusts slightly faster, deeper, watching Louis' reaction go from smug and contained to completely pliant and lost. His deep brown hair is a mess on the mattress, tousled into artform. 

"Yeah, like that," Louis moans, loudly whimpering when Harry fastens his pace again. 

The singer grips the sheets on the sides of Louis' head. Small fingers grip tightly on his tattooed forearms. "So good for me, so wonderful-" Harry praises.

The atmosphere in the room feels thick, tangible even, dimmed lights illuminating the tense muscles of Harry's abs and the lines of his navel. Louis' cock is wet and dripping on his stomach, and he doesn't mind to touch himself; the feeling of Harry inside him is enough to make him lost like that.

"Harder," He mutters, ordering, and Harry obliges without a questioning glance. Louis realizes that Harry trusts him too.

Louis decides that he loves it. He loves the bounce of his body as he's rocked back and forth, up and down just to be filled again at every giving thrust. He loves it even more when Harry opens his legs further, hands pushing at the back of his knees, and thrusts even deeper. The change of angle hits his prostate dead-on, and he knows he's not going to last long as he groans out loud; " _Fuck!_ Harry, Harry-"

"Right there, yeah?" The taller man says, smirking as he bites his lips and moans. "So hot, Louis, want you to come on my cock,"

The dirty talk fuels Louis as he throws his head back again, arching off the bed to feel his prostate being nailed with every thrust. His head spins, his body tenses at the unimaginable pleasure. He wants to try more positions, he wants to flip around and bend over so that Harry can have him from behind, he wants to ride Harry until they're both losing their breath, he wants to wrap his arms and legs around him like before and let Harry have his way like that, but he's stuck within his own mind, and he feels like he's about to burst at any giving second.

"Oh, oh," The tiny moans keep falling off Louis' lips, dripping down like honey, creating sweet melody for Harry's ears. He wants to be devoured by Harry, and he truly believe he is when he looks up at the man and his jaw falls slack at the hunger in the singer's features. "Don't stop," He mutters quietly, his ruined voice doing wonders to Harry's arousal.

The man above him shakes his head, curls dancing. "M'not. Wanna watch you fall apart, think you can come for me just like this?" He asks, concealing a request that Louis nods eagerly and doesn't have to to much concentrating of his own to be able to feel the curling heat pooling at the put of his stomach.

Harry begins to pound into him then, the sound of skin on skin filling the room as well as their combined moans. It's all part of a song that Louis wants to listen for the rest of his life. He lifts his head, tiny hands grabbing ahold of Harry's face and pulling him down, kissing him sloppily. 

He feels his release approaching quickly from then. "I'm coming, Harry, _Harry-_ " He whispers against the singer's lips, closing his eyes as his jaw falls open and a silent scream leaves his throat. He groans when the first rope of come paints his torso. He's coming completely untouched.

" _Holy fuck_ , Louis-" He hears Harry moan, feeling his thrusts growing erratic, sharp and sloppy. Everything feels distant and muffled, but he slits his eyes open to watch Harry's features twist in pleasure as his cock pulses inside him, finding his release too.

Everything stills for a second. The silence has barely any room to appear as Louis continues to whimper and moan quietly, kissing through Harry's tense face and chest muscles. When the singer tries to pull out, he presses his legs on his waist and holds him. Harry looks at him and smiles, watching the sheer coat of sweat glistening in his dimples. Louis smiles back, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

"Don't want to let you go." He whispers, pressing his ankles at the small of Harry's back.

The singer kisses his the top of his nose, resting their foreheads together. "Don't want you to let me go."

Harry stays, and barely manages to hold himself up, collapsing softly on top of Louis, who doesn't mind the weight at all. They hold each other until the world feels tangible again. 

The _Spanish Steps_ are beautiful, all marble and glistening underneath the heated sun of the midday. Louis doesn't dare to climb up the good amount of steps before he settles down by the fountain in front of it, equally as beautiful and splendid.

He sips on a water bottle, before passing it on to Harry. "If there wasn't so many people there, I'd definitely race you to the top." He announces, offering a smug smirk to his boyfriend.

Harry looks at his with side eyes, coated in disbelief, as he sips on the fresh water as well. After a walk like they just had just to see the tourist attraction, it feels good to sit and cool down, although the sun continues to beam above them. "Yeah, good luck with those short legs of yours." Harry jokes.

Louis widens his eyes but can't contain the laugh. "Excuse you, I might be shorter than you but that's an advantage. Your long legs will just make you clumsier."

The singer chuckles, and their gazes fall together on the sight before them. A simple, yet gorgeous church stands at the top, like a prize to the ones that make it up the steps. There's a generous amount of people crowding at the stairs, taking pictures, walking up and down, families, tourists and residents, all taking advantage of the beautiful structure. Luckily, no one seems to pay more than a glance at the couple, expect for a few Italian girls that had asked for a picture early on when they left the hotel. Louis was more than happy to take the pictures, and was a bit surprised when they had asked him for a photo too.

He awkwardly accepted, putting his peace sign up much for Harry's amusement, and the chain of teasing started from there. He wouldn't have it any other way, though.

"Wanna give it a go?" Harry breaks the silence between them, drawing Louis back into reality. 

"We came all this way, didn't we?" He ponders, blinks, then glances at Harry with a smirk. "Unless you want to chicken out."

The singer laughs. "You humor me, let's go," He states, standing up and offering his hand automatically for Louis to take it. 

The smaller man does it, lacing their fingers together immediately, and despite the gesture becoming more than common between them, it still amazes Louis every time, making the familiar butterflies come alive in his stomach.

The go up the steps slowly at first, almost succumbing to the sun and the heat, stumbling over people eventually. Towards the end, the couple rushes to reach the tallest view point, in front of the church and the tall cross that stands behind a marble railing. 

"We made it." Harry announces between sharp breaths. Louis can only nod, already craving more water as he drinks it and hands to Harry again. They lean on the large blocks, the ancient structure holding their tired frames as they take in the view silently. 

Louis would definitely move to Italy, if he ever get the chance to. Only with Harry too, of course, because Italy's love-filled atmosphere only made sense with the man by his side as well. He wonders quietly to himself, thinking about all the places he's seen since he met Harry. He wonders what places, views and sights will come next, how every feeling will continue to intensify. 

He comes to the conclusion that it doesn't matter where they are, he will still always feel this way. Completely in lost in love, in the best way possible, being it in the most luxurious building in New York, on the marble steps of Italy, or in the messy living-room of his small apartment in Manchester.

Harry moves behind him when the wind blows on their heated skin, snaking his arms around his lover. "It's beautiful." Harry whispers, voice carried away by the cool breeze. 

Louis sighs, Harry presses a kiss to his hair. There's nothing more important than that moment. No one, no worries, no lawsuits, dramas or rumors. 

Just him, Harry, the buildings and Italy's clear sky.


	26. Chapter 26

Louis didn’t know how much he missed Harry’s London house until they’ve crossed the front door.

The large, tall walls held so many memories, almost tangible in his head. He recalls being there the first time, all shy and unsure feelings coated in insecurities of being with Harry. It feels so recent, and yet so long ago. After going through so much, he feels relief of coming back to a familiar place, and he can tell that Harry shares the same feelings by the way the singer enters his house and throws his bags by the front door, and does nothing but to drag Louis through the spacious living room, kissing, hugging and then taking naps on the couch to recover from the slight jet lag.

It isn't until around five in the afternoon that Louis stirs awake in the empty cushions to the smell of baker's yeast. He smirks, stretches out and stumbles to the kitchen, finding Harry working on the counter isle. The taller man looks up briefly, and that's all that it takes for the dimples to come alive in his rosy cheeks.

Louis approaches and rests his upper body on the surface of the counter. "We barely got home and you're already baking bread," He mutters. He doesn't fail to notice the way the word "home" makes Harry's lips twitch into a slight smirk, and how the term slides off his tongue so sweetly and easily. 

"S'not bread, I'm making a strudel." Harry responds, whisking whatever is in the bowl in his grip.

"A what now?"

"You'll see. It's pretty good." 

Louis traces his finger on the counter top, glancing around. There's something besides the memories there that bring him a comfortable sense of domesticity, an intimacy beyond physical. The atmosphere between them is calm, subtle like waves in a low tide.

"Can I help?" Louis asks, tracing the silence with his voice.

"Sure, ahn, grab a bowl in the cabinet, please?"

He complies, circling the kitchen isle and struggling quietly to reach the top cabinets where the bowls are situated. "Bloody hell," He groans, prompting himself to the tip of his toes.

"Can't reach?" Harry teases, glancing back with a smirk that Louis wants to wipe off with a kiss.

"Watch me, Styles." He scoffs, raising his knee on the counter and finally managing to grasp the shiny utensil.

"Oh, I'm watching," The singer mumbles, green eyes tracing the curves of Louis' arched back, warm beneath his hoodie and sweatpants.

The shorter man chuckles and ignores the blush that creeps up his cheeks, and pushes past his boyfriend with a smile on his face. "Got your bowl, what now?"

As it turns out, strudel is a hard recipe to follow. He doesn't know how to work a batter, or how to twist and roll the thing without making a mess on the counters, but Harry manages to take that task while he prepares the filling. He watches as the singer puts all the ingredients and parts together to form a aesthetically pleasing dish, swirls of sweet apples between soft layers of dough, before putting it in the oven. 

Harry sets a timer and organizes the coffee table in the living room to have their meal there, and before they have time to take another restless nap, the alarm calls and the recipe is finally done and ready to be consumed. 

"I have a private meeting tomorrow." Harry informs between bites of his strudel, feet crossed and prompted up on the couch.

Louis glances over at him, ignoring the TV for a few seconds and the slight frown in his lover's features take all of his attention right away. "You don't sound very thrilled." He points out.

Harry shrugs, picking at a piece of candied apple on the corner of his plate. "It's management stuff. Not my favorite thing to have a meeting about," He pauses, biting on his honey stained lips. Louis waits, consuming Harry's frustrated sigh. "But, yeah, Jeffrey does most of the talking anyways."

He doesn't like the way Harry's eyes are low and his mouth is pursued by the lack of comfortableness in the subject. Louis chews on another piece of strudel, and forgets about the TV playing in the background, and turns his body to face Harry. "Too bad I can't be there so you can take me to the rooftop, innit?"

The singer smiles slightly. Louis decides it isn't enough. Waves of mirrored negative emotions wash over his chest, although he doesn't truly understand Harry's perspective. He reminds himself to breathe, and recalls the times that Harry shared why he doesn't like it. Management teams tend to treat him like an object, a path to profit, rather than a real person, and being there to witness their discussions was emotionally tiring. 

So, he scoots closer to his boyfriend, finishes his plate finally and opens his arms. Harry falls into his embrace almost immediately. "Hey, it will be alright, you have dealt with this kind of stuff countless times before, it'll just be another one." He tries, rubbing his palms up and down the man's broad shoulders. Harry hums affectionately, and that's when Louis knows he's got through the wall in his mind that keeps him from feeling safe. 

"I guess you're right." Harry mutters. 

They breathe, and brightly colored eyes meet in an encounter that feels just right. "This was delicious, by the way." Louis tells, gesturing to their now empty plates. 

Harry smiles, dimples in display, cuddled up inside his lover's arms. "Told you." He whispers simply, before leaning in for a kiss that tastes sweeter than the candied apples and honey dough.

The ring-bell echoed through the empty house loudly, and Louis' feet rushed to the gate to press it open, allowing their guest to come in.

Niall stepped inside the property, a bag hanging from across his shoulders, and Louis had to bite his lip and hold his own elbows to contain his excitement at bay. The way that the Irish lad stumbled in towards him in a rush told him that he didn't need to hold anything back, so, he didn't.

Louis embraced his best friend tightly, and chuckled at the sudden gasp that left Niall's throat. He missed him so dearly, his voice and his accent, the way his words always seem to settle in a good place inside his heart. He smiled when felt Niall squeezing back, hugging his frame with longing. 

"I wasn't going to admit that I missed you, Tommo." He said, voice muffled between the crease of Louis' shoulders, clothed by a sweater. 

"Neither was I." He responded, enjoying the hug for a while before they pulled away. "How have you been?" He asks, placing a hand on his taller friend's back. He notices that his hair is darker, and his bleached tips are slowly disappearing. He decides that he likes the more mature look on his best friend's appearance.

Niall smiles. "Pretty good, nothing too out of the ordinary like yourself, eh?" He expresses, and Louis pushes the front door open for them to go through.

He doesn't admit that he has spent the morning fixing the guest bedroom for his friend as he takes him there, and takes the opportunity to show around the house, enjoying the way that Niall's eyes are exploring the place in wonder and amazement. After he settles his stuff in the room he'll be spending the next days in, they head to the kitchen, where Louis had already stocked with Niall's favorite brand of beer and his own teacup rests on the counter top.

"How are things with Harry?" The Irish man shoots, opening his can skillfully.

Louis sips his tea, humming. Images of Harry flash in his mind and nothing but good feelings and warm colors wash over his heart. "Quite content, yeah, don't think I can complain one bit. He's at the studio right now, and, ahn," He smirks, pursuing his lips to contain a bigger smile. "He's wonderful."

When he looks up, Niall is beaming. "Lad, you're whipped. You're bloody blushing just thinking about him!"

"Oi, shut up!" He responds, punching his shoulder playfully. He'll never be able to explain how he feels, seeing his best friend happy _for_ him and being so completely accepting that it's suffocating, in a good way.

"I'm just teasing, you deserve it." Niall says sincerely.

Louis shakes his head amusingly, feeling his lungs fill with the familiar comfort that Niall's presence often brings. "Anyways, so, you're moving to London, yeah?"

 _"Finally,"_ Niall expresses, sipping his beer. "You know how long I've been saving up for this. I'm so happy that me and my girl are moving in together, too."

The smaller man can't contain his smile, then. It's genuine, the way he feels so happy for his friend. He heard Niall's plans of moving to the capital of England since they've met, years ago, when they were both so young and filled with dreams that felt too distant to grasp. Looking at them now, it feels surreal, and he feels incredibly proud of Niall. Also, meeting someone he loves along the way was a bonus that he definitely believes his friend deserves.

"Too bad she couldn't come, I assumed she would go searching for places with you." Louis speaks and finishes his tea.

Niall nods to himself, eyes fixated on the marble counter. "She did, but she's busy right now, we got a bit to cover still, the new furniture and all that stuff. She's working so hard," He tells, and Louis can't help but to notice the glint of admiration and fondness in Niall's eyes when he talks about his girlfriend. It's endearing, seeing his friend so in love and happy as well. He wonders if he looks like that when he talks about Harry, too.

"You both deserve this." He points. Niall looks up with a grin. "I'll be glad to help, by the way. House hunting in London is probably stressful if you're doing it all alone."

They share a glance that holds enough appreciation, but Niall voices it, anyways; "Mate, you and Harry are already helping a whole lot by offering me a place to stay in the meantime. So, cheers for that." He raises his beer, and Louis decides to get one for himself too. They cheer for a brief moment, and then; "When are you and Harry moving in together?"

The first sip barely soothes in his throat before he feels the need to cough at his friend's words. He swallows, jaw clenching as he searches for an answer. "Ahn, I don't know," He responds with a questioning tone. 

Niall glares at him. "C'mon lad, can't believe you haven't thought of it. You're traveling together, _working_ together, what's the next step?"

Rolling off Niall's tongue, it sounds obvious and easy to respond. 

Louis haven't thought of it.

Being with Harry for the time being was so filled with strong feelings and special moments, that the thought of moving in together officially feels almost superficial and simple. However, it brings a sense of stability that he didn't know he was hesitating of until the very moment. He loves Harry's company, and being with him feels nothing but right and perfect, but what if their routines clash, in a bad way? What if the normality of their own presences wash away all the love and adoration they have for each other? 

Growing up in a family torn apart by divorce, his mind settles easy in the subject of separation. Although, he's certain that his and Harry's relationship are nothing close to wearing out, something in the back of his mind tells him to be careful. 

"You know how I am mate, I gotta overthink everything before-"

"Well, don't," Niall interrupts, sending him a look that says it all. "I know how you are, Tommo. Don't sabotage yourself into thinking you don't deserve this, or that you shouldn't, or whatever other reason you find to stop yourself from being happy. You're bloody glowing just talking about Harry, and forget about all his fame and his status, he is genuinely a good guy and he absolutely adores you."

Louis is speechless for a moment. 

Niall's words don't fail to settle deep within his heart and mind. 

"I mean it." He continues. "And this isn't just about moving in together. This is about everything. Allow yourself to be happy, Lou."

The shorter man grins, glancing at his best friend like he's made of gold. He truly believes that Niall's heart is. "You always know what to say, don't you, Nialler?"

"You can bet on it." 

They cheer again; beer coats their tongues and the midday sun bleeds in through the windows.

Louis is happy.

Sitting in the dimmed lights of the studio, Louis tapped his pen against his lips, eyes traveling through the floor as he superficially listens to the conversation around him. The writing team talks and shares small lyrics they've created, key words and concepts thrown around in the air. Harry sits quietly too, across the room, beside the producer that works behind a computer and mixers. He loses himself in his own writing, comes back to reality to receive looks from Harry that only the two of them know how much meaning it holds. He uses the small gesture as inspiration, and soon, locks himself in the creative spot in his mind as he scribbles down on his notebook. 

They go to the studio in early mornings, have lunch with the crew and come back home in the early afternoon, having dinner with Niall's company after the Irish lad has spent his day out in the city, looking for houses and apartments, and when he finally finds it, it turns out to be a beautiful home, all white-picked fence family dream. 

Coincidentally, it's around the same time that Harry moves on to the final touches of his newly recorded album, mostly concentrating in the production details and adding whatever he feels its right to fit his own music identity.

Louis is endlessly proud, and finds himself in a beacon of happiness and satisfaction, seeing not only his best friend finding the house of his dreams and filling his goals, but to also see his boyfriend enjoying the last stages of the release of his album. It's something he didn't get to see in Harry before, the truthful passion behind his work, and having the final results coming to life and closer to the hands of the public is so utterly satisfying that he even allows to feel proud of himself too, for having a small part in it as well.

From time to time, he struggles to organize his mind in subjects that still linger out of his control, such as Eleanor and her silence after the lawsuit came out to the public. Harry's fan-base was quick to consume the news and to defend Louis in that matter. However, he had to fight the urge to personally talk to his ex-girlfriend, no matter how many times Harry himself protested against the idea. 

Deciding that the closure he needed in the matter wouldn't come from talking to Eleanor was hard; admitting to himself that he had no control over the idea of him in her mind was harder. It took him a long, ground-breaking talk from Niall to come to terms with it, and to move on from the subject once and for all. 

He focused on his goals, and all the negative things that once were all he could think about were now a tiny, faded reminder in the back of his head, a single dust in the wind. 

Both him and Harry got a week off work while the marketing team took over the scene of the up-coming album, taking care of all the needed advertisement for the release. Louis wouldn't admit it, but he was relieved to have the small slit of free time for themselves after working so hardly and watching Harry work even harder. 

He couldn't complain one bit about their newly lazy routines, consisting on sleeping until noon and waking up together under the warmth of the sun, spending their afternoons in the backyard and in the pool, sharing laughs and creating even more magic moments to add to Louis' list of his favorites things in the entire world. 

However, the end of their days turned out to be Louis' favorite part. Seeing Harry tiredly finishing his dinner, a glow in his eyes and pink rosy cheeks from the sun, long limbs cuddled in the couch or making love in places they wouldn't expect to find themselves in.

He absolutely loves him, and it used to terrify him, but it doesn't anymore. 

It terrifies him now, how unafraid he feels. It's an paradox that haunts his mind, in the best way possible. He loves being trapped in an endless cycle of everlasting love. All towards one man, the same that currently twists his fingers in his hair, caressing so gently that he barely feels it, but feels enough to melt underneath it.

"Haz?" He mutters, voice lost amid the darkness of the bedroom. 

The response comes softly, a whispering tone. "Yeah?"

There's a pause, Louis breathes. The lack of light helps him think, somehow. "What does your dream home look like?"

Harry shifts a bit on his spot in the mattress, long curls brushing in the pillowcase and against Louis' neck. "Not huge." He sighs. "Open spaces, like, kitchen connected to the living room, connected to the dinning room." He describes, and Louis closes his eyes despite the darkness, envisioning the place in his mind. "Maybe a long hallway where the rooms are. Big windows, I like those. A cool garden where I can grow plants and trees, maybe flowers."

Louis grins, although Harry can't see it. 

He can definitely imagine it, Harry's gold skin under the sun, the garden, the smell of fresh bread in the described kitchen, the slight dust in the glass of the large windows. 

"What's yours?" Harry questions after a bit of silence.

Louis scoots closer and searches for Harry's hand between the sheets, lacing their fingers together. The singer giggles softly against the pillowcase and Louis nearly dies right there. However, he can't die before saying what's on his mind. 

"My home is whenever you are, Haz."

He knows the words are cliche and love-song worthy, but it's so genuine that his heart nearly jumps out of his throat at the small, yet deep confession. He feels Harry's fingers tightening around his own as a shallow gasp brushes past the singer's lips. 

He knows that Harry understands the message, and that he grasped the word's meaning quite well. He's sure that Harry reciprocates the sentiment, because even amid the darkness of the room, underneath the midnight dusk and the silence, Louis feels the intensity behind Harry's kiss, and sees a glimpse of sparks between his fingertips when it grazes down his chest. 

Louis lets Harry flip him onto his stomach and make love to him until his senses are clouded and his words are mending together with the dense air around them. The pillows swallow all his moans and Harry's curls tickle his neck, bathing him skin in utter bliss and complete perfection. 

He loves him, and no amount of words would put it in the right way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 years of One Direction!  
> It was an emotional day for me, for sure. I've been a fan since 2011 and damn, this band brings me so good memories and good feelings.  
> I'm soft.


	27. Chapter 27

The train arrives just as Louis' knees begin to bounce up and down nervously. Harry grabs the luggage before he has time to stand up, and the crowds of passengers begin to gather at the edge of the platform, waiting for their time to board.

"Lou, you're alright?" Harry calls, muttering above him. He nods, standing up, and shoving his hands into his coats' pockets. Harry shoots him a sympathetic grin, tucking his chin into the scarf around his neck. "Let's go." The singer says and takes his smaller hand inside his own, squeezing in attempts to calm Louis down.

It works, they board without any trouble, and people that apparently recognize the couple don't pay them as much as an amused look. As soon as they settle down in their respective seats, Harry places his arm behind Louis' shoulders, and turns his body so they can both glance at the window.

The train starts moving soon after, landscapes around the tracks and cloudy skies taking over their visions, giving start to their three-hour journey to Doncaster.

Louis would never think he'd be more nervous than Harry about this particular trip. He thought of it so many times over the years, shallow plans of going back to his hometown to check up on his old and friends and see his mother, but being there then, after easily buying their tickets and boarding in so quickly, only proved to him that the distance was never truly the reason he took so long to go back.

If it wasn't for his mother's insisting request for the past week, he's sure he would still be scared of even the thought of boarding on that train. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what he was afraid of for so long; there was a twinge of rejection tracing his story in Doncaster, and it lingered strongly enough in his own mind to keep him away all this time. Maybe reliving memories and meeting familiar sights would bring him stress instead of relief.

However, being with Harry, the chance of feeling relief if way larger. He already breathes a bit easier when he feels the singer's hand heavy on his restless knees. 

"This reminds me a lot of Holmes Chapel." He mutters, lips close by Louis' ear.

The silenced space inside the train was comfortable, and something in the deepening dimples in Harry's cheeks accentuated the feeling in Louis' heart. "All the small cities in England look the same." He responded with a grin. Louis feels a shiver creep up his back and scoots closer to his boyfriend, searching for warmth.

The singer shrugs. "Maybe, but only Doncaster was special enough to have you." He says, pressing a kiss to Louis' temple.

The smaller man smiles at his words, and a fond smile cracks in his features. He notices Harry glancing down at his curving lips and his expression beams. Louis' chest blooms at the realization that Harry only wanted to make him smile.

And just like that, his anxiety for the up-coming events decreases, enough for him to be able to appreciate the views that circle the moving train.

When sights of Doncaster begin to decorate the space around them, Louis' rushed heartbeats start to pick up again. However, this time, instead of the bitter nervousness, a hopeful spark takes place. He feels oddly comfortable, being back in the place he thought he'd never be again so soon. He's certain that no matter how bad memories or whatever grudges he held against the small city, something pulled him in every time.

He felt welcomed when he exited the train, and holding tightly onto Harry's hand, he paced through the station, looking for a cab, before driving off to his mother's - and his own old - address. 

Orange brick walls and old structures wrap around his chest, squeezing the nostalgia and the memories tighter to his heart. Harry himself seems admired by the copper tones of his hometown, the reminders of an autumn that never really goes away. As much as he tries to fight it, he adores the cloudy skies and the empty peace in the narrow streets, and everything adding to Harry's presence feels incredibly overwhelming by the time that their ride is over.

He exits the car with Harry, feeling his hands shaking as he looks to where his childhood home is fixated, standing still and quiet, forgetful of all the fortunate and unfortunate events that occurred within its walls. He stays there for a while, on the sidewalk, traveling his eyes through the old home. His mother's familiar car is parked on top of the elongated driveway, the grass around the entrance and the cemented pathway is slightly dry and patchy, just like it has always been.

Harry quietly pays the cab and it drives away just in time for the singer to fit his hand inside Louis', drawing his attention back in the moment. Harry easily recognizes his distraught instance.

"Hey," He calls softly. Louis' fringe dances in the chilly wind as he turns to look at him. "Are you sure you don't want some time alone with her before I-"

"No," Louis quickly responds, ignoring the way his voice wavers slightly. "I need to do this, and I _can't_ -" He swallows. "I _don't_ want to do this without you."

He squeezes Harry's hand for comfort for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day, and it worked every time.

They walk up the driveway, to the front door, and Louis is the one to press on the ring-bell. He shivers at the familiar sound that echos inside the house, and when footsteps are heard coming closer, his heart beats so harshly in his ribcage that he's afraid it will overpower any other sensations.

It doesn't.

His mother opens the door, and everything around him seems to fade away for a second.

She looks beautiful, despite the crinkles by her eyes that seemed to have deepened, and her hair sits delicately around shoulders. Her expressions lights up almost instantly, although Louis can see the glimpses of other mixed emotions running through her wavering smile. He doesn't quite control the muscles on his face, but by his mother's reaction, he's smiling too. 

"Oh, darling," Is all that Johannah says, before she pulls her son into a tight embrace that Louis didn't know he _desperately_ needed. He feels comforted, safe in a way that only his mom's hug would could hold. 

Louis struggles to find his voice, but he finally does it; it's in between his mother's familiar perfume, surrounding him in a warm atmosphere, and within his own aching throat; "Hey mum, I missed you so much,"

Johannah hugs him tighter. Louis doesn't realize he's shedding a tear until it runs down his cheek. He wipes it away quickly, and pulls away just in time to see his mother do the same. "Look at you, all grown up, my dear Louis," She says, running her watery eyes through his frame, running her hands across his shoulders, still grasping the fact that he's really there. Louis quite doesn't believe it either.

Time stands still for a moment, before he hears a quiet sniff behind him.

Harry stands silently, holding their luggage in front of his body, watching the emotional interaction with a lovely grin that not only shows his dimples, but accentuates the teary rims of green eyes. 

Louis glances at his boyfriend through his own blurred vision, before pulling the singer closer in towards his mother, a hand resting on the small of his back. "Mum, this is Harry,"

The taller man smiles and nods once towards Johannah, timidly sticking his hand out to the lady. "Hi ms. Deakin, nice to meet you,"

She looks at him and grins. "Oh c'mon, give me a cuddle," She expresses, opening her arms and pulling Harry into an embrace as well. "You can call me Johannah, darling."

When they pull away, Louis doesn't miss the twinge of adoration that coats Harry's features.

The woman glances between the two, her expression so sweet and welcoming that suddenly, the warm tones around Doncaster seem grey and lifeless. 

"Well, get in, I've prepared lunch for us, hope you boys are hungry." She announces, pushing the door open until the couple is inside.

"Thank you, mum," Louis says, sending a glance to his mother that speaks volumes between them.

His childhood home remains mostly the same, the floors are spotless and the wooden furniture is the same one he used to climb upon as a child. The scents are so familiar and nostalgic; he recognizes the smell of lavender mixed with the leather on the couches, the curtains are still the same beige tones that surrounded his memories, the staircase is still chipped at the edges of the steps, where he stumbled countless times. 

He contains his urge to walk all over the house, and although it's still his home, his time away took the intimacy he had with the place, so, he's contented with just lingering on the downstairs floor, pacing around the kitchen with Harry and his mother, setting their dining table for them to have the meal together. 

He's glad to see his boyfriend and his mum getting along seemingly well; the lady isn't shy when asking questions about his lifestyle, and to share her own stories with the singer. Louis loves the way Harry looks amazed by absolutely every detail of every story she tells, even the ones that involve Louis' childhood and the possibility of her embarrassing him increases; however he doesn't dare to interrupt their interaction, and handles Harry's teasing glances and his mother's funny tales with a smile on his face.

They eat peacefully for what feels like forever, in a good way. He missed the family environment, all mostly brought by his mom's presence and her delicious cooking that he missed so dearly. The house is quiet and yet, so alive that Louis can hear his child-self laughing around the corners of the home, and his own tiny feet running through the long corridors. 

When they finish, Harry is quick to take on the task to set the plates away and into the sink, politely offering help without being asked. Johannah shoots him an appreciative glance, and turns to Louis. "Honey, can you come to the garden in a bit?"

Louis nods knowingly, and just as he finishes cleaning the table top, his mother disappears down the hallway. He turns to Harry, over at the sink, working on the dishes. "Do you mind being here for a while?" He questions, and when Harry glances back at him, there's nothing but comprehension coating his features. 

"Sure, Lou." 

Louis breathes in, nodding. His hands tremble by his sides.

"Hey," Harry calls. "It will be fine. You have a lot to catch up on with her. I'll be here, alright?" The smaller man sighs, taking his boyfriend's words as a antidote for his sudden anxiety. "She's an amazing lady." The singer states, drawing a smile out of Louis, and that's all he needs. 

"She likes you a lot, I can tell." Louis informs, approaching his lover and planting a quick peck on his lips. "Thank you for coming with me."

Harry only smiles, and that too, is all Louis needs to see before he walks over to the garden, in the back of the house. 

The garden is a lot different than the last time he's been there. Flowers - daisies - are growing vividly around the low porch, decorating the edges of the stained wooden boards. Johannah sits in the bench, next to a window, and Louis approaches to sit beside her.

"Harry is such a lovely guy, isn't he? So sweet and polite." She starts, voice so calm that it coats Louis' chest in daisies as well.

He breathes in. The grass is shining underneath the sheer sunlight, bathed in morning dew still. "He is, indeed." He confirms, and despite the shortage of words, his mother can read his features well. She knows he's got a few more words hidden beneath his tongue, bleeding in through his endeared expression. She knows he loves him, and it doesn't stun her one bit.

"I'm happy for you, love." 

That is all it takes for Louis' walls to finally crumble down.

All the years avoiding it; the memories, the hurtful words, the lack of support, the loneliness at times, the nights awake feeling homesick. Years avoiding this very talk, that was so easily reachable, if he just found it within himself to _accept_ himself.

"Mum, I'm," He swallows the sob that threatens to bubble up his throat. "I'm sorry, for all this mess." He manages to say.

He looks aside. His mother holds a comforting expression, one that wipes away all his worries and clears his doubts. "Don't apologize, darling. You did what you believed was right for you, and I should have reacted better than I did."

The wind brushed past their figures. He missed Doncaster's cold breezes, despite the sun. "And I should have been more patient. I lashed out the moment you and dad didn't immediately love my idea, and that was selfish."

The mention of his dad is bitter in his tongue, and he recognizes it in his mom's reaction upon hearing it too. The man isn't the best person to be around, or to grow up with. Louis was the living proof of it, memories of his dad so faded that there was no good thing to grasp, or to link to the man. He became closer when Louis got older, a while before he decided to leave to Manchester. His estranged relationship crumbled to dust that very moment, but he doesn't have many regrets towards him, anyways. 

Johannah, however, is the opposite of the man, and Louis absolutely loves her with all his heart and soul, and still, everything that happened, happened. 

"Well, I think we both had our faults." She grins, and Louis does too. 

"Yeah,"

"But, you've proved me wrong today, Louis."

He swallows. The sun steals his words. "Why?"

"I told you that you wouldn't get to conquer your dreams out there." She repeats the words, and Louis can tell that it pains her to say it again. "But you did, didn't you?"

His heart skips a beat.

He did.

"I think I did."

"You did it, Louis, and I'm so, so proud of you." His mother smiles between watery eyes. His own vision stings with tears. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I'm glad you didn't listen to me."

He chuckles, and then their both crying. Johannah grasps her son's hands, taking them into her own palms, and looking at him with such vulnerability and pride that it makes his chest ache. "I love you, mum. Thank you for, for all this-"

"I love you too, honey. Come here," She opens her arms to receive his embrace, and once again, Louis can't believe he's spent all this time without it. 

All he needs is right there. His childhood home, creaking and standing underneath his hometown's humid winds, his mother's embrace, and Harry's presence and support through the emotionally heavy series of events.

He's never felt more at _home._

Harry steps inside the bedroom with the same hesitation that Louis does.

His old bedroom is clean, spotless despite its emptiness. His bookshelf holds his same old books, remaining untouched since the day he left. His old closet is now filled with boxes, and his mattress is made with clean new sheets his mother probably set to receive them. His window is open, the view of his neighborhood brings him back to his school days, where him and his friends would hang out there, splattered across the hardwood flooring, with no worries in their naive minds.

Louis raises his hand to trace the edges of his old wallpaper, sticking out slightly. He sighs, hearing Harry enter the room with their luggage. The taller man's eyes are traveling through the space, taking in every detail that screams _Louis,_ and by the foolish grin on his face, he's endeared by the personal character of the place. 

His own ringed fingers soon find something to touch. "The Fray, huh?" He mutters, breaking the silence inside the room. Louis glances back, finding his boyfriend touching a poster of the band he had glued there years back.

"Oh, yeah, I was a fan." He smiles, approaching, snaking an delicate arm around Harry's waist, his cheek pressed against his bicep. He sighs. "Can't believe I'm back in here." He expresses, the confession tracing the dense air around them. 

The singer glances down and pecks his forehead. "It's lovely. It's very _you."_ He tells through a dimpled smirk.

Words feel too faded and superficial at the moment, so they only lie on Louis' old single bed silently instead, the narrow mattress forcing them to share the tight space, much to their content; no complains, only excuses for unexpected cuddling. Starting at the ceiling beside each other, Louis finds peace and steadiness, finally matching the beat of his heart.

"Don't you want to see your old friends?" 

Harry's question is stolen away by the chilly breeze that runs through their bodies, joined hands squeezing one another in search of warmth. Louis sighs, his old neighborhood is quiet as they pace the empty streets. The sidewalks are so familiar that he remembers every crack, every hole and tearing in the cement underneath their feet.

He shrugs, finally. "I haven't talked to any of them since I've left, and honestly, everyone wanted to leave too." He catches Harry nodding quietly at the corner of his eye. "They must be scattered around England, anywhere but here."

The singer's gaze travels the cloudy sky. Louis secretly admires the small bags under his eyes, finding something endearing in the curves in his features, results of their sleepless night in Louis' old bedroom. He smirks at the memory, still feeling the scratches on his back grazing against his coat.

"I like it here." Harry announces suddenly. "It's quiet and pretty."

Louis smirks, looking down at the edges of the sidewalk. "Me too, the problem was always the people."

Somehow, Harry's face holds nothing but understanding.

They cross three, four streets, and if Louis is tracing the path correctly in his mind, they should go down on the block right about now, to reach his destiny. Louis enjoys the silence for the rest of the walk, as he steals a few glances at his boyfriend, catching him admiring details of the small town, and grinning back at him every time. He wonders how it feels for Harry; it must be a relief, to be somewhere so open, and feel vulnerable enough to walk without circling bodyguards, private drivers, managers, and the rest of a control team that pushes him around. Although it is for his safety, he can't help but wonder how the lifestyle makes him feel trapped. 

That, with the nostalgia of his own hometown running through his head, makes Harry look incredibly at peace. Louis decides that Doncaster isn't so bad, as it puts a smile on the singer's face.

Harry follows without much questioning, but when they reach their destiny, his jaw drops slightly, lips parted in surprise and amusement. 

Behind an empty, abandoned street, further down the sloping grounds, a small river runs, carrying its own melody of crashing water, rocks and vegetation surrounding its edges.

"I used to come here a lot as a teenager," Louis starts, his legs guiding them towards the natural spot. A trail of dirt in between the tall grass marks the place where people walked through countless times. "Me and my friends would sit here after school and hang out until sunset, we'd talk and smoke and do stupid shit, you know, young people stuff."

The singer breaks his gaze apart from the river, turning to his lover. "This is so nice, can we get closer?"

Louis nods, humming, and they do, hand in hand. Before it gets too close to the water, they silently decide to trace along the river's shore, covered in scrubs and shrubbery. 

"Did you ever jump in?"

"In the river? No," Louis chuckled. "One of my friends did once, but just because we dared him to do it. He stepped on a rock while doing it and complained about a sore foot for a week."

Harry shared a laugh at the thought. "Must have been fun hanging out here."

"It was." He confirms, feeling Harry's fingers detach from his touch, and when he looks up, the singer is pacing quickly towards a taller patch of vegetation. Louis watches amused, noticing the way the thin blades of grass brush his knees. Harry trails further into the place, and then sits down on the ground, opening his arms as he throws his torso back against the soft grass. "There could be snakes around."

"Really?" Harry asks, looking up at his boyfriend.

Louis chuckles. "No, not really."

He takes a seat beside where Harry's figure lies, but the singer sits up briefly after, elbows hugging his knees, eyes turned towards the river. Louis finds it hard to look away from the man, lost within the peace in his expressions, curls dancing in the breeze. It had gotten so long now, going almost past his shoulders. He finds it absolutely stunning, and it's just another excuse for him to admire his boyfriend visually. 

"Haz," He calls. Harry looks, and he almost loses his breath then. It still stuns him, being there underneath the man's gaze. He's too in love to bear it. "I know I already said it, but thank you for coming along with me. This is important for me, even if it seems a bit stupid, being scared of coming back to my own hometown."

"It's not stupid." The singer points. "And thank you for letting me come along. I feel like I needed this too."

 _This_ peace, _this_ moment, _this_ city stuck in time, present too real to grasp its dense, humid atmosphere. _This_ place where they can breathe.

Louis breathes, the grass shivers and dances, stuck in the ends of the earth. Everything feels like it's in the right place, too correct, too good. He thinks shortly over their discussed plans, the release of Harry's album within the next month, the end of the year coming closer and bringing a new experience with it, like his start at university. He thinks over their undiscussed matters, like moving in together, and the possibility of a long-distance relationship with Harry as he goes on tour around the world. He realizes he's already overthinking.

Then, he remembers Niall's advice. _Allow yourself to be happy._

So he does. 

"What are you thinking about, Lou?"

The river sings a song that Louis can almost write lyrics to. "I'm going to end the lease of my apartment in Manchester."

It's not direct, but he doesn't miss the way the corners of Harry's lips twitch into a timid grin. "Oh." He mumbles, picking at a strand of grass, dimples coming in display. "When?"

A pause settles. The woods ahead witness the silence and consumes it. Louis breathes. "As soon as we come back _home_."

 _Home. London. Harry._ It's all synonyms in Louis' mind.

The singer smiles fully then, so beautifully and brightly that the smaller man can't help but consume the sight with a smile of his own. 

"Okay, yeah, I can help you moving your stuff out of there, if you want."

"I'd appreciate that, love."

Harry locks eyes with him, and neither smiles dissipate from their faces. He puts his head on Louis' shoulder, and everything falls into place once again, while the water continues to crash softly before them, in its everlasting cycle of old stories and hidden dreams. 


	28. Chapter 28

After the last cardboard is sealed shut by tape, Louis finally feels like he can breathe again. He had started to regret the decision of taking upon himself and Harry's efforts to pack all of his belongings, but it's worth it in the end, when the boxes are all stacked in the corners of the empty rooms, just waiting to be taken to their next destination; London waits patiently, unlike Louis, who feels that his excitement, mixed with familiar anxiety, would soon use his throat to make knots.

He swallows, wiping the sheer sweat at his forehead with the back of his hand, and hears Harry's footsteps approaching the living room's entrance. His curls soon come into view, damp and pushed back, his t-shirt wrinkled as a result of his selfless exertion. 

"All done?" He asks, eyes darting around the place. 

Louis nods, pressing his back against the wall and sliding down. "Yeah, I think that was everything." He responds, wincing at the soreness of his thighs muscles; as it turns out, placing and handling boxes demanded a lot of squatting. 

The singer approached and sat beside him, his chest heaving tiredly. They sigh quietly, enjoying the peace after the chaos that took over the entirety of their day.

"I'm going to miss this place." Louis comments, as if mumbling to himself, and just allowing Harry to hear. He looks aside, and the singer holds a similar feeling in his expression.

Louis comprehends then, that the small apartment in the heart of Manchester held as much meaning to Harry as it did to himself. The place had brought a sensation of security and calm, a domestic environment that the singer needed. It was the place Harry had spent time alone while Louis went to work, back in the beginnings of their relationship. It was the place Harry could call a home for a little while, and that, Louis is more than relieved to realize.

Both men share a glance that speaks volumes, and the dust in the air shines with the sunlight that enters the apartment. 

Then, Harry stands up and sticks his hand towards Louis, who despite the confusion stamping his features, complies and takes his hand within his own. "What are you doing?" He questions, settling onto his feet.

"Wanna have one last dance, right here," Harry whispers, as if the entire world is listening, and the words are way too precious for anyone else to hear. Anyone else but Louis. He might believe it really is. 

The smaller man wraps his arms around the singer's shoulders and the tip of their noses brush together. "You're unbelievable, Styles."

The couple smiles, and soon the hardwood flooring turns into clouds, soft and light, underneath their dancing feet. Despite the lack of music, Louis swears he hears it, a melody in the back of his mind, echoing ever so slightly, and then he realizes it's just Harry's magic intoxicating him.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

From the VIP box, Harry's figure looks small. However, he contrasts where he stands in the big stage, sharing the spotlight with the band behind him, all underneath everyone's attention. 

The album release had been a complete success, and the public's opinion was generally positive. The couple had enjoyed watching the world's reaction to Harry's new music, and working their routines around the good amount of performances requested in several different locations in London, in order to promote the album. Louis felt unbelievably proud, seeing his lover's work stamping billboards and breaking records across the globe. He felt grateful to be a part of it, and to be able to watch everything from such a close perspective, that even the struggling bits of the journey seemed worth it.

Between the mind-blowing events, adding to Louis satisfaction, he had managed to get enrolled in London's best university; thoughts of starting his classes at the beginning of the next year never failed to make his heart grow bigger with a sense of accomplishment and excitement for what's yet to come. Also, Harry's London house was now officially _theirs,_ and though it wasn't their dream home just yet, it was a special place for both of them, and growing there before moving on to another place seemed to be the best idea. 

So, it's understandable to point out that a smile hasn't left Louis' face since the current show had started. There was absolutely no reason for him not to. 

Niall and his girlfriend are dancing behind him, both holding beers and chattering away while Louis leans against the railing on the high VIP box in the arena. He can't grasp the reality of this moment; less than a year ago, he was down there, in the crowd, squeezed in between bodies of excited and screaming fans.

Now, between every song, Harry shoots a glance upwards towards where he is, and smiles like he's found a treasure every time he looks at his silhouette.

Louis smiles as if Harry can see it too, and never tears his eyes away from the singer, who dances and plays his life away in the stage, his presence so addicting that he can't help the adrenaline rush in his veins every time Harry plays a single chord. It feels like everything is muted, muffled and far away when he focuses on his boyfriend, talented enough to steal the attention of at least a thousand people in a closed space. _He loves him._

When the show ends, Louis, Niall and his girlfriend go down to the backstage area, where they meet up with the band and eventually Harry, who holds a dry towel to his damp curls hanging around his face. Louis wants to kiss him all over, despite the sweat and the slight tears on the corners of the singer's eyes. He laces his arms around Harry's shoulders, grasping at his - _sparkling_ \- suit. 

"That was awesome, love, I'm proud of you," Louis says, pressing a chaste kiss on the space between the corner of his mouth and a dimple. 

It has become a habit for Louis, to congratulate and praise Harry every time after a performance; he's certain that he will never feel like he said it enough times. The singer smiles hugely, looking down at his lover so uniquely endearing that it's hard to believe he's just faced a thousand people. "Thanks Lou, I-"

"Harry!" Someone shouts by the backstage door, interrupting and catching the singer's attention. They look towards the sound; it's Jeffrey. "Two minutes until meet and greet." He announces, winking at the pair before disappearing again in the hallways.

"Well," Louis grins, shrugging. "You're being summoned."

"Sorry," The singer tries, but the shorter man is quick to shush him with a soft kiss on his lips. It works, and dimples are back on his cheeks as soon as they pull away.

"Oi, lovebirds!" Niall calls, a few chuckles echoing inside the place. "We'll be waiting on the entrance area."

Louis detangles himself from Harry, despite his mind yelling against it, and smiles at his boyfriend, before turning to his friend. "Wait up, Nialler."

The singer smiles at him, and with a loving glance, the couple part ways to meet later on after Harry's work is done, and they can finally go _home._

Something about Harry's stamina after a show always leaves Louis breathless.

Maybe it's because the singer presses him against a wall right after their house's door is closed, and the remaining adrenaline from the performance now run hot and heavy on their veins, fueling a passion that grows and burns like fire on the surface of their skins. 

Louis moans against Harry's lips, hands already fumbling with their clothes, peeling layers off their bodies. The shorter man is already half naked, pants too tight to bear, and then Harry _stops._

At first, he's concerned. Maybe something is wrong, maybe Harry regrets starting the heated making out session, or maybe he's too exhausted after the long day. He opens his eyes and stops too, taking his hands away from Harry's chest, scared to make the singer uncomfortable in case he's overwhelmed.

However, green eyes aren't holding any negative emotions, it's actually quite the opposite. Harry looks like he's beaming, despite the dimmed lights of their large living room, and his fingertips are grazing Louis' collarbones while his lips tremble into a timid grin.

"Haz?" Louis whispers, swallowing the lump down his throat, voice raspy from the recent waves of arousal. "Is everything alright?"

The singer finally looks up, and a shiver runs down Louis' spine. It's endearing how he _still_ feels completely lost underneath Harry's gaze. His curls frame his face so beautifully that it's hard to not think he's a mirage, a reverie of his own mind.

Time stops and Louis' dreams materialize in front of him when Harry licks his lips, sighs and laces his fingers around his jaw delicately. 

"Louis," He mutters silently. Their heartbeats are in sync, thundering in their chests like a song. _"I love you."_

The shorter man feels stuck in place, pinned between the wall and the singer. His eyes are so genuine and bright, like a lighthouse in the middle of the sea, light and significant like a bird flying in the salty wind.

"I love you, Louis." He repeats, as if the first time wasn't enough, as if no amount of words would ever be enough. His voice is calm although it trembles, and his breathing nearly collapses when Louis' jaw go slack against his touch.

"Harry," The man almost moans the name, lost deeply within the moment and the dense air around them. The furniture and the late night stars are the only witness of the moment where Louis finally realizes that nothing will ever be as good and fulfilling as hearing those words.

"I love you, I love you," Harry sings, running his thumbs under Louis' cheekbones, tears threatening to blurry his vision. "You're everything to me, Louis. I want you next to me all the time, you're wonderful and your soul is so bright and-" He swallows. "I, I don't, I _can't_ even begin to explain how I feel right now."

Louis smiles, ignoring his own tears.

He nods, and places his hands on top of Harry's, because he understands.

He's loved Harry since their quiet times in his old apartment in Manchester. He's loved Harry since they shared their stories and tales, and he truly believes that he's loved Harry in all of his past lives and parallel universes. It feels right, it fits perfectly, and he absolutely believes that it will always be this way. They're meant to be together, he can almost believe that their souls are made of the same stardust from millions of years ago, and that not even celestial forces would be able to tear them apart.

He feels stronger than he's ever been in the most vulnerable moments he has with Harry. 

So, the words that have been lodged in the back of his teeth for so long finally find their way out.

"I love you too, Harry."

Emerald eyes blink, and his expression beams once again. Louis wants to see it everyday of his life.

 _I've loved you since forever_ , he wants to say, but he doesn't need to, because Harry can comprehend the feeling and reciprocate it. 

The world could fall apart, crumble to the ground like dust, and nothing would take this moment away. While both of them ignore the shy tears that leave their eyes, Louis pulls Harry down for a kiss, and he can swear it tastes different, almost too good for his own sake, too addicting, and he can't pinpoint it.

Maybe it's the flavor of the _I love you's_ that fall out of their lips a hundred more times that night, maybe it's the ethereal atmosphere that surrounds their tangled bodies, or the curious gazes of a thousand stars above them, witnessing their love.

Louis is certain that it's Harry's magic, once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's the end!  
> I'll admit I got emotional writing that last part. I got really attached to this story and I'm very proud of it.  
> Thank you so much for reading it until this far. Your support is immensely important for me.


End file.
